Rustic Roots.

My parents both came from Iowa, and, as they gradually moved eastward, they seemed to enjoy leaving behind the economy of small towns, and the antiquity of outdoor plumbing. Yes, my dad's high school class was comprised of a mere six individuals, and, until around age 15, my mom and her family left the warmth and comfort of their home to take their constitutionals.

On landing in Michigan, they abandoned any shred of country, and, except for an occasional Hee-Haw, the sounds of rural America did not reach our ears.

No Dolly Parton, no Hank Williams Sr., no Willie Nelson. And, no George Jones.

While all the former have become familiar to me, George is new. (Which seems a bit late, this week's news considered.) And, while I remain on the fence, Ben tells me he's the real deal.