In August 1988, I realized a lifetime dream of playing on the Grand Ole Opry. Longtime friend and former mayor of Nashville Dick Fulton came backstage to congratulate me and asked if he could introduce me. Opry Manager Hal Durham and I thought that was a fine idea.
The same thing happened to my friend Dick Fulton that has happened to me many times: forgetting something or someone I knew as well as I knew my own name. After some glowing remarks, the big moment came and he said, “Here he is, ladies and gentlemen … uh … uh … uh … Doyle Rogers!”
I knew some of my close friends and picking buddies were tuned in, so I got ready for the ribbing. The next time I walked in Mike and Weldon’s Barber Shop, everyone said, “Doyle Rogers!” We do some picking there on Thursdays and Saturdays, and I knew that would happen. If I hadn’t gotten a laugh out of it, I knew my pals would ride me down.
Someone said, “That must be awful to get introduced as someone else when you finally get your big day in the sun.” I said, “The only thing better is to get a great lifetime story. I will be laughing about it as long as I live.”
Why is this so important? For one thing, an indignity harbored and allowed to fester can do you a lot of damage. Year after year it grows until it grows into a snake coiled around your innards. Another reason is that people will rib you even more about it if they know it bothers you.