memories that for no good reason stick around:
Standing in the heat with my mother to see Conway Twitty in Nashville at Fan Fair in the 80's.
It was some sort of record store that had been partitioned off for the lines of women with big hair to come and stand.
I don't know what I was expecting at age 10, but a sorta puffy and sweaty man wearing a jeweled western shirt was not it. He had crunchy puffy hair, like the kind that was achieved with Salon Selectives or other such scrunching spray of the era.
He had a fat gold marker and someone kept placing the color photographs in front of him and he would smile and scribble and say darling and thanks a lot and it was so freaky.
My mom sang his songs in the car as we drove back to Ohio.
I think I sang along too.
He was kinda pervy that one.
title post- The English Patient 1996