I was on Amazon last night and decided to download the new Eagles’ album Long Road out of Eden.  It was late when I finished the download but I listened to a few of the tracks and remembered why I had always liked the group so much.  One of the songs reminded me of the 1975 song Lyin’ Eyes, and a time in my life when I felt a great empathy with the lyrics of that song.

I had sat a well just outside of Falls City, Nebraska during my last year at Cities Service Oil Company.  The little town is the place where the real events of the movie Boys Don’t Cry occurred.  It was, at first glance, a sleepy little village but after fourteen days I learned differently.

In1975 I was twenty-nine and still a year away from ending my waning marriage with first wife Gail.  Falls City is the county seat of Richardson County, the southeastern-most county in Nebraska.  The town is just across the border from Kansas.  I don’t know if Kansas is still a dry state, but it was then.  Because of this, Kansans young and old crossed the border to drink and raise the roof.

I was training a new geologist named Gary.  The engineer overseeing the well was a young man also named Gary.  The three of us soon learned the place was a little different, not quite a Sodom and Gomorrah but racier than anyplace I had ever lived.  Everyone seemed to have a boyfriend or girlfriend that wasn’t their husband or wife, and everyone in town soon knew who we were.

The two Garys and I drove over to the nearby town of Rulo one night to have dinner at a highly recommended catfish restaurant on a bluff overlooking the Mississippi River.  When we finished eating, we stopped into the local bar for a couple of beers.  A very loud band was playing in the bar housed in the lower level of an old three-story brick office building.  The lights were low, music loud, along with the cacophony of a hundred male and female revelers.  We entered the darkened double doors with rapt anticipation.

After pushing through the raucous crowd, we shoe-horned our way onto a long bench at a table along the back wall.  A pretty young woman with raven hair draping her yellow peasant blouse took our drink order and soon brought us two pitchers of the local brew.  The music from the band, if possible, grew even louder as we sat there, taking in the sights and sounds of the dark honky-tonk.

During a particularly frenetic drum solo, a young woman stood on a table and began stripping off her clothes.  Once the frenzied crowd realized what was happening, they began encouraging her with shouts and screams.  She was almost naked when her husband, or maybe her boyfriend, wrestled her off the table and carried her outside, the performance earning her and her boyfriend a resounding round of applause.  My eyes had begun to adjust to the dimly lit room and it was then I noticed the woman sitting across the table from me.  She was staring at me and she was smiling.

Already feeling the effects of several strong beers, I said, “Hi gorgeous, what’s your name?”

“Sonney,” she answered without hesitating.  “What’s yours?”

“I’m Eric and these two gentlemen are Gary and Gary.  Can I buy you a drink?”

Sonney wasn’t alone.  “Sure, if you’ll include my girlfriends.”

The three of us were more than happy to buy drinks for them and we would probably have continued to do so the rest of the night but they soon had to leave.  Before going, Sonney strolled around to our side of the table, gave me a big hug and slipped a piece of torn napkin into my hand before she and her two friends disappeared into the rampant humidity of a Nebraska summer night.  I didn’t look at the note until I was alone in my motel room.

The napkin bore Sonney’s hastily scrawled phone number and said simply, “Call me.”

I was married at the time and even though the marriage was floundering, I had never cheated.  It was one thing to flirt with someone in a dark bar after several strong beers but something quite different to take it a step further.  Still –

Two days passed before I called Sonney and made a date.  I picked her up at her apartment where her mother was baby-sitting for her three-year-old daughter.  I took her to Falls City’s only nice restaurant and we had a good time.  Somewhere along the way I invited her to Oklahoma City for the weekend.

I drove home a few days later leaving Gary to watch the well.  On the way I heard the Eagles’ Lyin’ Eyes at least what seemed a dozen times.  The lyrics caused me to wonder if I could ever live with myself again after deceiving myself, my wife and a young woman that had no idea about my situation.

I never saw Sonney again.  I remedied my state of affairs by giving Gary Sonney’s phone number and begging him to call her.  Sonney wasn’t enamored with me.  She was only looking for a father for her three-year-old daughter and Gary fit the bill as good as me.

Gary and Sonney never had much of a relationship even though she did spend a couple of weekends with him in Oklahoma City.  My marriage continued for another year but thinking back, it was effectively dead the moment I decided to call Sonney’s number and ask her out.

It’s been years since the Eagles last released an album.  As I listen to the poignant lyrics and complex guitar riffs of their new album tonight I realize why a generation loved their music.  I also realize something about myself that I never knew before, or perhaps never before admitted.

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