A/N: Today, April 26, 2013, Country music lost a legend when Mr. George "the King" Jones passed away at 81 years old.
I realize most of you are too young to remember "the Possum", but for those of us who grew up listening to his music... It was a devastating blow. Chances are you've heard Mr. Jones' songs. He Stopped Loving Her Today is one of his most famous pieces. Hello, Darlin' is another. His marriage to Tammy Wynnette inspired her famous hit, Stand By Your Man. Ironically, their marriage was doomed to failure.
Splinter nudged me with the memory of reading that many Asians, especially in the 80s and 90s, were huge Country fans. The idea that Yoshi and Teng Shen might have practiced their English by listening to the radio cemented the idea in place, and it just grew from there. Whether or not you're a Country fan, I hope you'll enjoy this little tribute to a true Legend, and his fictional fan who is a legend in his own right.
I, of course, own no turtles except Kame and Squirt. Neither are mutants and neither have had their show butchered by Nickelodeon. :-p I earn no profits from the making of this fic, and as always, thank the actual owners and creators for allowing us to play with their toys.
Many thanks to FairDrea and Melody Winters for acting as my betas on this one. FairDrea's BeetleJuice fiction, Haunting Temptation, is in progress, (that last chapter was a killer!), and Melody Winters recently wrapped up her epic Splinter/chibi tale, Fated Destinies.
Happy reading, friends.
~Remembering the Possum~
The spiritual plane came up to meet him like an old friend, and he relaxed into it, allowing it to carry him like warm water. Splinter felt the last vestiges of his physical form slide away as he floated, patiently allowing his astral body to form. Memories slid lazily past, snippets of music, remembered voices. An ear flicked as the longing to hear a familiar note of laughter rose up in him, a passing ache that rippled through his psyche.
There was something else… the echo of a song, a remembered melody, and if Splinter's astral form could have smiled, he would have. He stopped loving her today… The song had played so often through the little radio that sat on the windowsill above the sink. Teng Shen's accent had been so different from the singer's as she sang along, but she had embraced the music of her new country, and so she followed the singer's lead as closely as she could. Yoshi had commented, just the night before, on the improvement in her English, and she had smiled coyly.
Mr. Jones has been teaching me, Yoshi-san, she told him.
Who is this Jones-san? Yoshi's confusion made the un-mutated Splinter cock his head, looking at the man curiously.
Mr. George Jones-san. He sings on the radio. And there… there was the laughter Splinter had longed for, the soft sound that never failed to sooth his heart.
Reluctantly, he let the memory wash away into the greater ocean of the spiritual reality, and sought out a higher place. The past is for learning, not for living, his Master's voice echoed softly. But we may, perhaps, find wisdom by remembering.
Splinter's journey took him beyond the memory of Yoshi and Shen's voices, onward, to a future he had lived with his sons, a glimpse into what lay ahead for all of them, a legacy that would carry on, long after they had joined their ancestors. O'Neil Tech, Cody Jones… So much lay in the future, out of reach, but reassuring in its presence.
Roots, and blossoms. They all had a place in his Turtles' lives. Their roots were buried in the past, intertwined with Yoshi and Shen's lives, and deaths, and they were growing, always, upward and onward, toward the future that awaited them all. A smile tugging at his mouth was the first physical sensation that returned as he slid back into his physical body, as if he were sliding his shoulders into a familiar, comfortable robe.
His stomach reminded him that breakfast had long passed, and he hadn't bothered, in his quest for spiritual enlightenment, to seek out lunch. Slowly, he got to his feet, stretching, and made his way out of his room, his ears swiveling as he listened to the familiar, friendly, welcoming sounds of his family. The familiar click of Donatello's computer keys was absent, but Splinter spotted him perched comfortably in one of the armchairs, his foot resting on his knee, a book cradled in his lap. The sound of Raphael and Michelangelo's voices drifted from the rooms on the second floor, amicable for a change.
Leonardo looked up as Splinter entered the main living area.
"Good evening, Sensei." He reached for the remote control, as if to turn off the news flickering on the multitude of screens.
"Wait, my son." Splinter held up his hand, his gaze captured by the image multiplied across the multitude of televisions.
"Legendary country star, George Jones, aka "the Possum", passed away at age 81 today…"
Splinter sat down quite suddenly in the other arm chair. The strains of a melody came from the television speakers, and a long forgotten, remembered and familiar voice floated through the Lair.
Who's gonna fill their shoes? Who's gonna stand that tall? Who's gonna sing the Opry, and the Wabash cannonball?
The commentator's voice intruded. "Jones had five number-one singles, and thirteen top fives over his long, illustrious career…"
Splinter tuned him out, listening to the music as it washed, bittersweet, over his ears.
Who's gonna give their heart and soul, to get to me and you? Lord, I wonder… who's gonna fill their shoes?
The song faded and the commentator spoke again.
"Country music has lost a legend today. In the words of JR*, one of the singers who make up the country duo, Big & Rich, 'Every serious country artist in the past 30 years has some George Jones dna in their blood and music. My God. We've lost our Elvis.'.
Country stars across the country are paying tribute to the legendary George Jones tonight. He may have stopped loving her today, but his music will live on, in the hearts and minds of those who knew and loved him…"
"Sensei? Are you all right?"
Splinter looked away from the screens, startled, and met Donatello's gaze. The purple-masked Turtle was looking at him with concern, and Splinter realized with a start that the fur on his cheeks was damp.
"I am, my son," he said, rising, and forcing a smile.
"Ok." Donatello didn't look entirely convinced, but he nodded. "If you say so, Sensei."
Leonardo cleared his throat. "Perhaps you'd like a cup of tea, Sensei? It's about time we start planning for supper, don't you think? Mikey was asking a little while ago about getting pizza tonight, and Raphael wanted to know if we could invite April and Casey down for a movie night. If that's ok with you."
"That sounds… like a very good idea, my son." Splinter felt the warmth bubbling up. Time passes, he thought. And loss is a part of life, but our family's future has strong roots and it will continue to grow toward a bright future. Our ancestors are honored.
"Sounds good to me, Leo," said Don, standing up. "I'll go get Raph and Mikey."
"Ok." Leonardo's smile told Splinter he was looking forward to a peaceful evening with their friends as well. "Are you done with this, Sensei?" he asked, reaching for the remote again.
"Yes, Leonardo," said Splinter. "Thank you." He bowed his head, as the screens went silent and blank, and turned back toward his quarters.
"Will you join us for supper, Sensei?" asked Leonardo politely.
"Yes, my son, but I must tend to something first."
Splinter made his way back to his room. It took several minutes for him to remember which buttons to press on the music player Donatello had created for him. His son had insisted that the ingenious design was as simple as possible, but Splinter still found the array of buttons confusing. Finally he found the list of songs on the small screen, and pushed play next to the one he wanted.
He stopped loving her today… They placed a wreath upon his door…
The twangy sounds of an acoustic guitar floated through the room. A soft, Japanese-stained voice harmonized with the man's throaty vocals, blending in the place where this world and the next come together, and Splinter smiled.
A/N: The quote by Big & Rich's JR was posted on their Facebook page as they remembered Mr. Jones today.
They say a man can be measured by the stature of his friends. Mr. Jones had friends from all walks of life, from all points on the political spectrum, and from every background. He was, by all counts, a legend. Our loss is Heaven's gain.