Today is the 100th anniversary of Roy Rogers’s birth. (Actually, it’s the 100th anniversary of Leonard Slye’s birth. Leonard Slye didn’t legally become Roy Rogers until 1942, so this is only the 69th anniversary of Roy Roger’s birth. Or rebirth?) I didn’t grow up watching television or going to the movies, but even I had heard of Roy Rogers and Tigger. Oops. I mean Trigger. Not wanting to spend another sad Saturday hiding away, I hied away to the park to listen to Roy Rogers Jr and the High Riders sing his daddy’s songs.
After a few sets, he talked about his father and about the difference between country songs and western songs. He said country singers sing about lyin’ and cryin’ and cheatin’ and dyin’ but he didn’t say what western singers wailed about. Wide open spaces, I guess. And loneliness. Hmmm. I know something about that!!
He went on to say that we don’t want western music to disappear, and at that very moment, his voice disappeared. At first, I thought he was making a point, but it turns out the batteries on his microphone decided to die right then. Cracked me up. But no one else seemed to catch the irony. Not a single person but me smiled. Apparently the thought of the demise of western music is not to be taken lightly in certain circles. Or perhaps everyone’s face was too frozen to move. The day was bright and sunny, but the winds were icy.
Still, it was a perfect setting for the centennial. And for taking photos. The fellow in the photo below seemed to fit the scene perfectly, and I couldn’t help taking his picture. Turns out it was a day for irony — he was there to take photos of the event!! (Maybe taking a photo of someone who was there to take photos isn’t ironic, but it did amuse me.)