Eulogy: Tammy Wynette

The first time I saw her in person was in the early '70s at one of my father's "guitar pulls" in his living room, when a lot of musicians and songwriters previewed their new work. I was about 19 years old, with purplish hair and insouciance to spare, and the honored guests were George Jones and Tammy Wynette. I sat slack-jawed and transfixed as they sang (We're Not) the Jet Set. ("No, We're not the Jet Set/ We're the old Chevrolet set/ Our steak and martini/ Is draft beer with weenie"*). She sat on the plush blue antique sofa, hair poufed...

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