Jack’s Story
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One of my oldest and dearest friends is Mister Jack Daniels. Not only do Jack and I go a long ways back, but we have gotten into a bit of trouble together along the way. Daniels is that age-old definition of a great friend, one who wakes up in the same cells as you and says “Wow, that was fun!”
The good folks at Jack Daniels distillery once gave me a gift for telling them about my first encounter with their whiskey. It is a good story and worth telling again.
The universe is an odd, cantankerous yet often loving witch, prone to smiling upon the same people she wallops. I had been beaten badly by a divorce and was spending way too much time licking my wounds when an old buddy by the name of Jim Conners blew back into town (Jim, I sure hope you are alive and still riding rodeo). Jim couldn’t stand the sight of me moping, and one Saturday night said “Grab you Stetson … we’re goin’ get you out of this funk.”
Since he claimed he was buying, I had few reasons to say no.
We ended up at the County Line Saloon, which by name alone gives you and idea of the clientele and music. The night life was just beginning to bubble as we climbed our stools. When the bartender arrived, I ordered up two long necks, but Jim intervened. “Barkeep, bring us two shots of Jack.” The booze slinger smiled and poured a pair of stiff drinks.
Having not been a whiskey drinker before that night, I was a touch intimidated (a condition that ample doses of JD tends to cure). Jim raised his glass for a toast and said “Son, tonight your life changes for the better.” With that omen uttered, we tossed back the Devil’s own elixir (I assume Satan invented the stuff because it burns nicely, tempting and damning in the same instant).
As we slammed our glasses down on the bar one of the cutest cowgirls I have ever laid eyes upon walked past, smiled and winked at me. Within three seconds, Jim’s prophesy had come true. To this day I am uncertain if the potion or the spell was responsible , but I have been working the combination ever since.
(And for the record, I don’t recall the cowgirl’s name, but I’ll never forget the night)
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