Bars are lonely places most of the time. Friday and Saturday nights a bar jumps with excitement, but Monday through Thursday there’s only two other places with less life; a church and graveyard.
Those are the times for lonely people. Those are the times lonely music comes out of a bar. It announces to the world that a lonely person is inside.
It was a hot Summer evening. The sun was down. On the other side of the tracks next to Dad’s bar two factories were operating with skeleton crews. Inside the bar was one man nursing a bottle of beer. Loneliness oozed from the bar like pus from a wound. The man reached deep in his pocket and pulled out a coin. He ambled to the juke box and played a lonely song.
Everything about the song, the night, the man, the bar was sadness, despair, and loneliness.
There is nothing wrong with lonely songs and loneliness. It’s like climbing a mountain on your own. It’s your own strength and your own will that pushes you to the top. Somethings don’t require help or an audience. In fact, that is the way most of life is. Those are the times you find out who you really are. Lonely songs, though painful, can cleanse the emotions.
By the time the song ended the man ordered another beer. He knew not to go home because sleep was still far, far away. There was still more cleansing that had to be done.
“I‘m So Lonesome I Could Cry” was written for bars with only one customer and a bartender who knew when to listen and when to keep his distance.