Last Friday marked what would have been Don Williams’ 83rd birthday. Hands down my favorite country musician, Don Williams’ voice has woven itself through most every memory of my childhood. His songs, both the ones he penned as well as those of others he agreed to perform, consistently spoke of enduring love, faith, and honest living. He had a reputation for disputing lyrics he thought would be disrespectful to his wife Joy, to whom he was married for over fifty years, and his concerts consisted of Williams walking onto the stage in his old Wranglers, denim shirt, and cowboy hat, holding his guitar in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, perching on a stool, and singing the songs that reminded his audience of a time when life made more sense.
My mama often says the biggest disservice she did as a parent was making my sister and me believe that we could count on people always to do right. By no means a cynic, Mama just learned from her own experiences that it’s easy to get hurt when you take some people at their word and assume that the world is a safe place. I’ve thought, jokingly, that it’s Don Williams’ fault that I assumed people were gentle, humble, and true because his songs as well as his life reflected those qualities through and through. Lately, though, when I’ve listened more closely to the lyrics I can hear a thread of doubt in the inherent goodness of people and life that I didn’t before. “I Believe in You” reveals those on whom Williams can count: babies, old people, Mama and Daddy. He also believes in things such as gasoline being in short supply and the rising cost of getting by, and never in the flashy, ephemeral, or self-promoting. I’ve wondered what he’d think of what’s become of us.
Every generation must believe its struggles are the most significant, right? Who knows whether that is so. I don’t think anyone would argue that recent years have revealed some realities (or made it impossible to deny those realities any longer) about the world, our country, our communities, our relationships, that could cause even the strongest and most optimistic to despair. I don’t believe everything’s gone off the rails without warning. Neither do I believe that we can consistently neglect the small things without ultimately paying a price for it, regardless of if the neglect is rooted in malice or benign apathy.
I might blame Don Williams’ country lullabies for shaping my sometimes-gullible perception of life, but I also credit him for consistently reminding me from childhood that the small things are the big things—sharing coffee with your love, reading a bedtime story to your child, rising with the rooster to tend to chores, remembering to give thanks not only on Sundays, saying “I love you,” and meaning it. So much of what feels broken these days seems like it can begin to be healed by our attention to those daily, unglamorous choices. Sure, their details look a bit different now than when Don Williams was singing about them decades ago, but I wonder how much change might come from a consistent commitment to growing with our partners, raising our children with a sense of responsibility and gratitude, and holding ourselves and others accountable for actions and facing consequences for destructive ones.
“Success,” as Don Williams defined it, involved his ability to retreat to a humble family farm in Tennessee where his sons could wander, explore, and ride their horses and his family could attend the local church every Sunday where Williams served on several committees (and quietly funded new buildings and local as well as foreign mission work). He never judged those whose idea of achievement looked different from his own, and never set himself apart from or above anyone else. He was known by most of the world for his contributions to country music, but I think what would have pleased him the most (and what we could all learn from) is knowing that his slow pace, easy manner, and heart for people made life a little sweeter for others.
PartWolf 