Ronda Rich

Syndicated Columnist

By the time I was 21, my good parents had taught me much of what they knew. And, that was a lot. Some of it had been hard learned in the mountains, some came from town life and some was just born in them.

The top three commandments were: Trust in the Lord thy God with all thine heart; work hard and save money; always do what is right even if it costs you.

Just the other day, Tink and I caught someone in a lie. Nothing life shattering but definitely character revealing. I thought of one of Daddy’s staunch beliefs.

“A man who’ll lie to you, will steal from you.” Daddy firmly believed it because he had seen it in his life and in the lives of others. Daddy was a serious observer of people and circumstances. I can’t remember him ever being outsmarted.

They were quite a pair, Mama and Daddy. They were equally yoked and equally smart and equally confident that time would come when I would go out into a world they did not know. I feel certain that they both prayed for the wisdom of others to guide me.

Those prayers were answered multiple times by a parade of wise folks. “It’s better to learn from others’ mistakes rather than your own,” Mama said.

One of the mentors whose roots spread deeply through my life during a 35-year-old friendship was an admirable man named Don Light. He was also a quiet man who observed carefully and processed thoughtfully what he saw. He was a key insider in Nashville’s country music industry having entered the business in the early 1960s. The Grand Ole Opry prohibited drums on its stage until around 1965. Don was one of the first to play drums on the Opry.

He struck up a friendship with a guitar player for The Carter family. That man became a famous musician, as well as an executive at RCA Records. The world knew him as Chet Atkins, but Don Light always called him “Chester.” Those early folks who built the industry knew that city folks often referred to them as hillbillies. They shrugged it off, embracing it with self-deprecation. I laughed every time Don asked if I knew a friend of his on Music Row and he’d say, “You don’t know that hillbilly?”

By that time, they were all rich and well known for creating the “Nashville Sound.” Yet, they never got too big for their britches. They stayed the same humble country boys they’d always been. It was an early lesson to me and a reminder of what Mama said, “Don’t get above your raising. Always remember where you come from.”

Don was excellent about staying in touch. For over three decades, he called every month or two. When I answered the phone, he said, “Afternoon. This is Don Light.” I took to calling him by both names.

One day, he called and discussed a business deal that had gone sour with a major country music star.

“I’m sorry about that.” He shrugged it off. “You can’t unscramble eggs.” Philosophical. And, something I think of often when I’ve made a mis-step. Once you’ve done it, you can’t undo it.

A lot of history passed through Don Light’s life. He knew people, famous and non-famous. He discovered a young singer named Jimmy Buffett and got him a record deal. He managed the Oak Ridge Boys and tried to save an immensely talented singer named Keith Whitley, who died from alcohol poisoning.

“Sometimes,” he whispered sadly. “You just can’t save a man from himself.”

Every evening, Don Light journaled that day’s events and people. Then, on the yearly anniversary of that day, he’d re-read it. After his funeral, I said to his brother, “Those journals hold a lot of history. They should be published.”

My name resides in some of those pages but, importantly, his wisdom resides in some of me.

Ronda Rich is the best-selling author of the Stella Bankwell mysteries. Visit www.rondarich.com to sign up for her free newsletter.