Myth, Mystery and Monday

Title says it all.

Myth-making:
I first heard the tale, probably in Dallas. I do recall a version of the story in San Angelo. When I heard it in both Austin and San Antonio, I knew it was “one of those stories” that seeps into the local mythology like tainted groundwater.

I was going to adopt it a little, too, but I never could put the correct spin on the tale. The way the story goes, the common elements, a woman scorned for love, or illegitimate child, or a good-looking 19-year-old spinster. And she either kills herself, her lover, her suitor, her children, or gets killed by her lover or suitor, and at night, when the moon is full, you can hear her screams, and you can see her ghost-like image floating along the water’s edge. As she mourns. Or haunts. Or whatever it is that make-believe ghosts do.

She’s either of Latin heritage, or sometimes, she’s Anglo, or maybe Native American. One of those.

The challenge is to spin the tale up to speed with a trailer park. I can’t imagine any of the women-folk around here getting so despondent that – can’t think of a single one – who would either sacrifice herself or her kids for a male. If it were to fit around here, she’d have to kill him, and at night, the ghostly cries would be the guy who made a mistake.

Now that would be a common enough tale.

In Anaya’s work, I ran across a mention of the myth, and as Chicano story-teller, at least that author had the good sense to call it a myth.

Musical notes:
Every trope and conceit from a typical country and western song is present on that Hank III album. Fiddle, lap steel, stand-up bass, sure, that’s what it sounds like. Except, listen to the lyrics.

“Must’ve been the pills I took, kept my heart from feeling blue, and kept me from feeling about you. The mirrors are all busted, and someone’s crying, must’ve been them pills I took.”

“Sometimes I’m wired and sometimes I’m tired, and may the outlaws rise again…”

(from the aforementioned new Hank III CD set.)

The connection then the answer to the question of the familiar nature of the singer/songwriter, or the character Richard III, especially as portrayed by the ASF production, the intimate nature of the conversation between the person on stage and the audience, whether that’s one person listening to a CD or an audience in a small stage setting.

Laeti edimus qui nos subigant!
ban
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About the author: Born and raised in a small town in East Texas, Kramer Wetzel spent years honing his craft in a trailer park in South Austin. He hates writing about himself in third person. More at KramerWetzel.com.

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© 1993 – 2024 Kramer Wetzel, for astrofish.net &c. astrofish.net: breaking horoscopes since 1993.

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