Red Dirt Rocker--
Excerpt Chapter 19
Good Sunday morning everyone! This is my last excerpt from my book, Red Dirt Rocker. Once again, I can't tell you what an honor it is for you all to read the story that was inspired by my son, Forrest and my entire family. I've been more than busy lately, trying to plan my beautiful daughter, Skylar's, wedding and getting Forrest all ready to graduate from high school (both events are in the second week of May). I am anxious and looking forward to my books release on Tuesday. I have much to be thankful for! Blessings to all---Jody
The scene form "The Wizard Of Oz," where Toto pulls back the long veiled curtain revealing the Great and Might Oz, pops into my head. Dude...I'm definitely not in Kansas---or Oklahoma for that matter---anymore!
My feet are cemented to the floor as I gawk at the thousands of fans in the arena. In the midst of feeling like a fool, and wondering what my escape plan is going to be, I hear one lone voice with a foreign accent yell,
"Hey---it is Forrrrrest!!"
I instinctively wave as I scramble to get back behind the amps. I frantically muddle through the curtain fabric eventually finding the escape hatch. As I jump up, the crowd goes nuts. I can't believe my ears. They're actually cheering!
"Are you OK?" Dad yells over the crowd noise. He grabs my arm and helps me back behind the stage.
"I almost peed my pants!!" I wail, my voice shaking.
"You're gonna be just fine. Sounds like they already know who you are!" Dad says, chuckling. His expression turns serious and honest. "Son, I'm so proud of you. This is far more exciting than any football game I've ever been to." He continues in a tone that's meant to keep me calm. "Forrest, you boys are gonna knock em' dead. Deep breaths son!" My father's warm smile and confident words give me much needed comfort. I suddenly feel confident and the feeling that I swallowed a brick begins to dissolve away.
Dad clasps my shaking hands in his large steady ones, closes his eyes and says a prayer for a great show. For the first time, I notice large calluses on my dad's hands from years of handling boxes for U.P.S. and working at my Grandpa's farm. His calluses are just like the ones on Coach Bryan's hands. I respect my dad more than I can say. "Do good!" he says. Dad gives me one last embrace and then walks me toward the stage ramp.
I can feel my heartbeat begin to re-adjust to a normal rhythm. I'm thankful for my strong father and his faith in me. I repeat my favorite Bible verse in my head: "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. I can do this!"
I grab my trust Gibson Girl Betty---I'm now ready to step, not fall, back onto the stage.