The Facts of Life Read online

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Born in Abbott, Texas, on April 29, 1933,

  WILLIE NELSON

  is one of the most popular, prolific,

  and influential songwriters and singers

  in the history of American music.

  He has been inducted into a number

  of music halls of fame, was named

  a Kennedy Center honoree in 1998,

  and was given a Grammy Lifetime

  Achievement Award in 2000.

  He has recorded more than one hundred

  albums over six decades. In the spring

  of 2002, Island Records released

  his first major album of all-new material

  in five years, The Great Divide.

  Foreword by Larry McMurtry

  The first time I saw Willie Nelson he was upchucking in a gutter, somewhere around Sixth and Brazos, in Austin, Texas—the late sixties, that must have been. He had just ended his clean-cut phase. Though he looked as though his life expectancy might be about a week, I didn't attribute his digestive difficulties to drunkenness. Until dot.com cuisine reached Texas in the nineties, Austin was ever a treacherous place to eat. The man could well have run afoul of a bad tamale.

  Imagine my surprise, ten years later, on a hazy morning in Malibu, where I was working on a screenplay with the producer Martin Starger, to see a somewhat mottled, somewhat wizened runner wearing a bandana headband come speeding along the beach.

  “Could that be Willie Nelson?” I inquired.

  “The same,” Marty replied.

  By chance I once met President Bush, then in his gubernatorial mode, having his daily run. I doubt that he was running any faster than Willie ran on that hazy beach.

  I've always liked Willie Nelson's music, and have admired his acting. His uncanny ability to play himself constantly surprises. I've only once suspected him of sophistry—in a ballad called “Luckenbach, Texas,” whose rustic inhabitants are said to be “feeling no pain.” Probably the reason they're not feeling any is because they're so busy inflicting it on travelers unfortunate enough to stop there seeking a bathroom, a hamburger, or a tank of gas. Even the closemouthed Zuni are more forthcoming.

  The Facts of Life and Other Dirty Jokes is a breezy and likable medley: scrapbooky, with lots of pictures of family and friends; songbooky, with many lyrics breaking up the text. Here and there we may get a short polemic, a bit of mild bawdry, even the occasional plunge into the jungles of human nature. The twenty-five pages of photographs at the end provide a cultural history of a sort: Willie's World. The book, like the music and the movies, appeals because Willie himself appeals. We'd all be smaller without him.

  —Larry McMurtry

  I HAVE GIVEN A LITTLE THOUGHT to just what jokes would be proper or improper for this book. But, just a little. So, I would suggest that you read each one carefully, and then erase from your memory all the improper ones. Also, if you would just read every other word, they might be less offensive, and of course your reading time is then cut in half. However, for safety's sake, if you are a preteenager, please only read every third word. Thank you.

  I CAN TELL BY THE

  FEEL OF YOUR

  THUMB THAT

  YOU'RE A LITTLE

  HESITANT TO TURN

  THE PAGE …

  *

  They say writing the first line of a book is the hardest part. Thank God that's over. Roger Miller said it must be true that the longer you live with your pet, the more you look alike. My neighbor came over this morning and chewed my ass out for shitting in his front yard. Thank you, Roger. I also have you to thank for the opening of my last book—“I didn't come here and I ain't leaving.”

  My daughter Lana just asked me if I wanted a couple of ibuprofen. I said no, I save my pain for the show. We are in Tulsa, Oklahoma, for a concert at Cain's Ballroom, where Bob Wills and countless other great bands have performed in the last fifty years. The last time we were here, we had to move it to a larger place because of ticket sales, so we decided to do two days at Cain's this time.

  Lana, Kinky Friedman, and I are responsible for the contents of this endeavor, which is to be one-part song lyrics, one-part photographs, and ten-parts bullshit. That's where I come in. I seem to be doing very well. I have ripped off my friend Roger twice already, bragged about how well we draw in Tulsa, and exposed my daughter Lana for offering me drugs before the show. How do you like me so far?

  “YOU DO KNOW WHY YOU'RE HERE?”

  “Yes. There's great confusion on earth, and the Power that is has concluded the following: Perfect man has visited earth already, and his voice was heard. The voice of imperfect man must now be made manifest, and I have been selected as the most likely candidate.”

  “THE TIME IS APRIL, THEREFORE

  YOU, A TAURUS, MUST GO. TO BE BORN

  UNDER THE SAME SIGN TWICE ADDS

  STRENGTH. THIS STRENGTH,

  COMBINED WITH WISDOM AND LOVE,

  IS THE KEY.”

  *

  Where's the Show?/Let Me Be a Man

  Explain to me again, Lord, why I'm here

  I don't know

  I don't know

  The setting for the stage is still not clear

  Where's the show?

  Where's the show?

  Let it begin, let it begin

  I am born

  Can you use me?

  What would you have me do, Lord?

  Shall I sing them a song?

  I could tell them about you, Lord

  I could sing of the loves I have known

  I'll work in their cotton and corn fields

  I promise I'll do all I can

  I'll laugh and I'll cry

  I'll live and I'll die

  Please, Lord, let me be a man

  Please, Lord, let me be a man

  And I'll give it all that I can

  If I'm needed in this distant land

  Please, Lord, let me hold to your hand

  Dear Lord, let me be a man

  And I'll give it all that I can

  If I'm needed in this distant land

  Please Lord, let me be a man

  LANA, DAVID ANDERSON, SISTER BOBBIE, L.G., and Gates are regulars along with me on the bus, Honeysuckle Rose III. Ben Dorcy is not with us. Ben is now being preserved for trips in the near-Austin area. At seventy-six-years young, he is cutting his world tours considerably. But for all the millions of Ben Dorcy fans, Ben is alive and well. Well, alive anyway. Thank you, Ben, for many years of faithful service and wisdom—“If you need a friend, buy a dog.” We'll see you in Austin.

  Cain's Ballroom was good tonight. The crowd was loud, which I like. The girls were pretty, which I like, and the guys were friendly. I forgot the words to “Crazy” and that's a first. Sammi Smith came by and sang “Help Me Make It Through the Night.” Her son, Waylon, and Waylon's dad, Jody Payne, joined in on “Hey, Good Lookin' ” and “Will the Circle Be Unbroken.” Sammi's still singing like an angel.

  On the Road Again

  On the road again

  I just can't wait to get on the road again

  The life I love is making music with my friends

  And I can't wait to get on the road again

  On the road again

  Going places that I've never been

  Seeing things that I may never see again

  I can't wait to get on the road again

  On the road again

  Like a band of gypsies

  We go down the highway

  We're the best of friends

  Insisting that the world keep turning our way

  And our way

  My dad, Ira; my mother, Myrle; sister Bobbie; and me

  Is on the road again

&
nbsp; I just can't wait to get on the road again

  The life I love is making music with my friends

  And I can't wait to get on the road again

  I wrote this song on an airplane with Sydney Pollack and Jerry Shatzberg. We were talking about needing a song for the movie Honeysuckle Rose. Sydney was the producer and Jerry was the director. So I said, “What do you want the song to say?”

  Sydney says, “Something about being on the road.”

  “You mean something like, ‘On the road again, on the road again, I just can't wait to be on the road again? The life I love is making music with my friends, I can't wait to be on the road again’? ” I said the words kinda bland I guess, maybe without any feeling or emotion.

  Sydney and Jerry kinda stared at each other, and Sydney said, “But what about a melody?” I said, “I'll come up with one before we get to the studio.”

  At the time, they were not that knocked out with the song. Of course, they couldn't hear the whole song like I could. They were very gentlemanly about the whole thing, not wanting to hurt my feelings and trying to act like they weren't worried.

  I THINK THE MORE I TALK ABOUT MY HOMETOWN, Abbott, Texas, the better. Not only is it the only hometown I have, it is by far the most educational spot on the planet. I honestly believe I learned more in my first six years in Abbott than I've learned since. Smoking, drinking, and cussing are definitely three subjects in which I excelled.

  Miss Brissler, our next-door neighbor, and my grandmother, Mama Nelson (who raised me and sister Bobbie from the time I was six months old), had already told us that if we drank beer, smoked cigarettes, and cussed, we were hell bound. At six years old I was well on my way. However, the first songs I remember singing were gospel songs. “Amazing Grace” was the first song I learned.

  I was raised by my grandparents William Alfred and Nancy Elizabeth Nelson

  My first public appearance was in Brooken, Texas. We were at the annual Brooken Homecoming, with all-day singing and dinner on the ground. I was five years old. My poem was given to me by Mama Nelson to recite at the singing and performing part of “singing and dinner on the ground.” I guess I was nervous, because I started picking my nose until it started bleeding all over my little white sailor suit, trimmed in red. I did my poem …

  What are you looking at me for?

  I ain't got nothing to say.

  If you don't like the looks of me

  You can look the other way!

  I have never had stage fright since.

  There was always music in our home. My grandparents, Alfred and Nancy Nelson, were both musicians. They took music courses through the mail from the Chicago Music Institute. I could hear them at night practicing their music lessons. My grandfather, Daddy Nelson, was a voice teacher at one time, and they both knew a lot about music. We lived in a little house on the edge of Abbott, and I could hear every note they sang. I could also see the stars through the holes in the roof of that house. It was all very beautiful!

  Soon after that time, I was given my first guitar. Up until then I had only written a few poems. Now I was able to learn to play guitar and write songs. It was a Sears and Roebuck Stella guitar. The strings were very high off the neck, so my fingers bled a lot. But they eventually got tough. Kinda like life.…

  Mama Nelson and me in Abbott

  My granddad used to sing:

  Show me the way to go home

  I'm tired and I want to go to bed

  I had a little drink about an hour ago

  And it went right to my head

  Wherever I may go, and wherever I may roam

  You'll always hear me singing this song

  Show me the way to go home

  As you can see, I was getting a broad education.

  Daddy Nelson was the kindest, wisest man I've ever known, unless it would be my dad, Ira. He never criticized a crazy thing I did. If my dad was ever mad at me, I never knew it. He would give me anything he had; money when he had it, advice anytime, plus he always kept my cars running like a clock. He was the best damn Ford mechanic that ever lived. Amen.

  Me and sister Bobbie and some of the rest of the kids around Abbott, the Harwells and the Rajecks, we'd smoke anything that burned. We tried corn silks, cedar bark, coffee grounds, and grapevines before graduating to Bull Durham roll-your-own tobacco, and we did. That's where I learned to roll and why I can roll a joint faster than any living person. And then along came ready-rolls. No wonder I'm short. As much as I smoked, I should have been four feet tall. Thank God I quit cigarettes before I got lung cancer. Unfortunately, a lot of my friends and loved ones kept smoking. My mother, dad, stepmother, stepdad, and one father-in-law all died of lung cancer caused by tobacco. No one knew just how bad smoking was for you back then. If I had known, I would have quit at that time. But we thought it looked cool, smart, hip. Everybody did it. All the movie stars, sports stars (well, not all, but some), were always seen with a cigarette hanging out of their mouths. I love sports, and think I would have done a lot better if I hadn't been smoking cigarettes so early on in life, or not started at all.

  Sister Bobbie and me

  As far as drinking is concerned, I had only tasted beer when I was six years old, but according to what I'd been taught, that was enough to send me straight to Hell unless I repented and asked forgiveness. So I did, every Sunday, for a long time. The preacher asked those of us who wanted forgiveness to walk down the aisle. I went down morning and night for years. I took no chances. Amen.

  I believe we need all of the words we have. So cursing, or “cussing” as we used to call it in Abbott, was part of carrying on a conversation. Of course not in my home, but all over everywhere else. We told jokes, and we recited limericks.

  There once was a man from Boston

  Who owned an American Austin

  He had room for his ass and a gallon of gas

  But his balls fell out and he lost them

  Abbott humor was somewhere between white trash and redneck. All words were important to us. We believed in laughter above everything. We laughed at ourselves, mostly.

  We also loved to fight bumblebees in the summer months. The farmers down the road in Abbott would look for bumblebee nests while they were plowing and working in their fields. When they came into town, they would stop by Popps grocery store and leave word where we could find the nests. We would make our bumblebee paddles

  Me, Ed Knapps, and the Rape brothers

  out of apple boxes. They looked like Ping-Pong paddles with holes in them to let the air through and to swing smooth. Many Sundays I would come home with both eyes swollen shut from the beestings. Boy, what fun!

  By the way, if you're ever stung by a bee, rub tobacco juice on it immediately. The pain goes away and it'll heal much sooner. However, you're still blind for a few days.

  Another pastime in Abbott on Sundays, after bumblebee season, was placing an empty woman's purse on the highway that ran between Waco and Dallas. We would tie a string to the purse, then drop the purse on the road and run to hide behind a billboard. A car would come by, the driver would see the purse and slide to a stop. We'd pull the string, retrieving the purse before the driver in the car could get back to it. They were most always real pissed.

  This made our Sundays special.

  We still have a home in Abbott. We bought the house Dr. Simms used to live in. He's the doctor who delivered sister Bobbie and me. The house is about a quarter of a mile from where I was born. I go there when I can, and run and bike the same places again and again. They say you can't go back. Maybe they can't, but I can. Thank you, Abbott, for never changing.

  Good Times

  When I ran to the store with a penny

  And when youth was abundant and plenty

  Classify these as good times

  Good times

  When I rolled rubber tires in the driveway

  Pulled a purse on a string across the highway

  Classify these as good times

  Good
times

  Good times are coming, hum it, hmmmm

  Good times

  Go to school, fight a war, working steady

  Meet a girl, fall in love, before I'm ready

  Classify these as good times

  Good times

  Here I sit with a drink and a memory

  But I'm not cold, I'm not wet, and I'm not hungry

  So classify these as good times

  Good times

  Did you hear the one about the duck that went into the bar, jumped up, and asked the bartender, “You got any grapes?”

  The bartender said, “no,” and the duck left. The next day, the duck returned and asked the bartender once again, “You got anygrapes?”

  The bartender said, “NO GRAPES.”

  The duck left. The next day, the duck came into the bar and asked the bartender, “You got any grapes?”

  “NO. I don't have any grapes. I didn't have any grapes yesterday, I don't have any today, and I won't have any grapes tomorrow! If you ask me again I'll nail your damn feet to the bar!!”

  The duck left. He came back into the bar again the next day, jumped up on the bar, and asked, “You got any nails?” The bartender said, “no.” The duck said, “You got any grapes?”

  Horsing around in Abbott

  I LIKE JOKES. I like telling them, and I like hearing them. There are great joke tellers all around me. One of them is Poodie Locke, who once said, “You can't make a turd without grease,” and “A farting horse never tires.”

  One of his latest hits around the crew bus is, “How do you change a dishwasher into a snowplow? Give the bitch a shovel.”

  It's hard to find good ones like that. Thank you, Poodie.

  A HUSBAND AND WIFE HAD BEEN married for fifty years. Sitting around the breakfast table, the woman said, “Honey, do you remember fifty years ago today and we were sitting here after our wedding night? Sitting here at breakfast without any clothes on. Do you remember?” He said, “Yes I sure do.” She said, “Do you think we could do that again? Sit here without our clothes on?” He said, “Uh, I guess so.”