Pickin & Grinnin By Jim Gandolf

Pickin & Grinnin

Poem 

By Jim Gandolf 

©️05012026

The television hummed a glow in nineteen-sixty-five,

A flicker in the living room that kept the soul alive.

While the world outside was breaking, caught in shadows and in strife,

The cornfield offered sanctuary, a simpler way of life.

We sat upon the braided rug, the family in a row,

To watch the heavy curtains rise on a Technicolor show.

The banjo’s frantic picking was a tonic for the fear,

As the turmoil of the decade seemed to slowly disappear.

From the "Pffft! You Was Gone" to the jokes within the grain,

We laughed until the ache was gone, forgetting all the rain.

And though they sang of "Gloom, Despair," of misery and woe,

It was the brightest light we had, that corny, country glow.

They’d salute a tiny crossroads, some small spot upon the map,

Bringing folks together, closing every social gap.

From the Delta to the Heartland, they’d announce the local count,

Proving every humble life was a blessing in amount.

Now the world is spinning faster, and the static’s louder too,

But the spirit of the haystack is still calling out to you.

To bring it back would be to bridge the then and the tomorrow,

A vintage brand of healing for a modern kind of sorrow.

So let’s honor every legend, every picker, every grin,

Open up the wooden gate and let the new ones in.

For we still need a place to gather, where the laughter’s loud and free,

And the heart of old-time *Hee Haw* is the heart we need to be.

Jim Gandolf