A SONG THAT NEVER LEFT US
It was near dusk in Staunton, Virginia, where the hills still hold the sound of old harmonies if you listen closely enough. The air was calm, the kind of stillness that only comes when memory and twilight meet. Standing at the edge of the old fairgrounds, Don Reid, now in his late seventies, lingered in silence. His lips moved softly, almost like a prayer, as he whispered the words to a song that had outlived time itself — “Think of Me.”
For decades, that song had been the quiet heartbeat of The Statler Brothers, tucked among their more famous hits like “Flowers on the Wall” and “Bed of Roses.” But for Don, “Think of Me” was something different. It wasn’t just a melody — it was a message, a bridge between what was and what still remains. Written with the simplicity of faith and the ache of farewell, it had always carried the weight of parting and remembrance — words that now seemed to belong to him alone.
The old fairgrounds were empty, but in the quiet, echoes seemed to linger. You could almost hear Harold’s deep voice, steady and certain, blending once more with Don’s own. Phil’s harmony still hung in the wind, and Lew DeWitt’s tenor — gone too soon — felt as if it might still rise from somewhere beyond the horizon. Together, their voices once turned fields like this into sanctuaries, where laughter and devotion met in perfect chord.
Now, Don stood there alone, and yet not alone. Every blade of grass, every breeze, seemed to hum with the past. As he mouthed the chorus — “When you think of me, think of sunshine…” — his eyes glimmered with something gentler than sorrow. It was gratitude. The kind that only comes after a life spent doing what you were born to do.
It’s easy to forget, in the rush of new music and changing times, what The Statler Brothers meant to the heart of America. They sang about small towns, about home, about Sunday mornings and the kind of faith that doesn’t shout but endures. Their harmonies were woven with honesty — songs for ordinary people who worked hard, loved deeply, and believed that life, however brief, was still beautiful.
For Don Reid, that legacy isn’t written in plaques or awards, but in the stillness of moments like this one — when the sun falls across the Virginia hills, and he can almost hear the applause of ghosts.
He said softly, “They still sing with me, you know.” His voice was steady, his smile faint. “You just have to listen past the silence.”
The evening light deepened into amber as he turned toward his truck. Behind him, the field glowed — golden, familiar, eternal. And somewhere, in the hush that followed, the song played on — carried by wind, memory, and love that refuses to die.
Because some songs don’t end when the music stops. Some keep living in the hearts of those who remember — whispered from one generation to the next, like a promise.
“Think of Me.”
A song that never left us. A memory that will never fade.
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