How Vern, George, and Randy Saved a Marriage (Almost)
By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025 Truth Endures©
“The Country-Fried Defense”
The Honorable Judge Bledsoe peered over his glasses, clearly unimpressed. “Mr. Rawlins, you understand this is a legal proceeding, not the Grand Ole Opry?”
“Yes, Your Honor,”
Said Henry Rawlins. He stood tall in his dusty boots and bolo tie. One hand rested on a weathered Bible. The other clutched a crumpled lyric sheet.
Across the courtroom, his soon-to-be ex-wife, Sherry Lynn, sat rigid in her seat, her lawyer whispering furiously in her ear. Henry’s lawyer had already given up and was sitting down, his face red, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief.
Henry cleared his throat.
“But if the court will allow, I’d like to offer my final statement in my own words. I would also like to include the words of a few gentlemen. They helped me understand what went wrong.”
A murmur passed through the courtroom.
Judge Bledsoe sighed.
“Mr. Rawlins, continue—briefly.”
Henry nodded, unfolding the page.
“Your Honor, I ain’t a lawyer. But I know pain, regret, and how a man can lose his way. And those feelings are best told not in legal briefs but in country songs. So I offer my case—in three verses and a broken heart.”
He stepped ahead.
“First, Vern Gosdin said it best: ‘That just about does it. That’ll just about kill it, won’t it?’ That’s what I said the day Sherry left. I came home to an empty house and a note by the coffee pot. Ten years of marriage, and it ended in one quiet goodbye.”
He turned to Sherry Lynn.
“I didn’t fight. I figured I’d already lost. And I didn’t blame her—not entirely. I hadn’t been easy to love.”
The courtroom was silent. Even the bailiff looked up from his crossword.
“Then,” Henry continued,
“I walked through what George Jones called ‘The Grand Tour.’ I opened the closet and saw her dresses hangin’ like ghosts. Our baby’s room still had the mobile spinnin’ slow. The smell of her perfume lingered like a memory that didn’t know how to leave.”
Judge Bledsoe adjusted in his seat, then motioned for him to finish.
“But, Your Honor, here’s the thing. I almost didn’t show up here today. I nearly signed the papers and walked away. But then I heard Randy Travis singing. He was singing ‘On the Other Hand… there’s a golden band.’ It reminded me of someone who would not understand.”
Henry looked again at Sherry Lynn, softer now.
“On one hand, I messed up. I got too comfortable. I stopped listening. I stopped holding her when she needed to be held. But on the other hand, I still believe in us. That golden band still means something to me. Maybe I’m a fool for sayin’ this here in court. I’d rather fight to fix it. I won’t stand here and let it all go to hell while quoting country songs.”
He folded the paper, tucked it into his jacket, and looked down.
“I rest my case.”
A pause. Then Judge Bledsoe leaned back in his chair.
“Well,”
he said slowly,
“I’ve been on this bench for twenty-three years. I’ve heard lawyers argue using everything from scripture to Shakespeare. But, I’ve never heard anyone use Vern Gosdin.”
The judge turned to Sherry Lynn.
“Mrs. Rawlins, do you still wish to continue with the divorce?”
She was silent for a moment. Her expression softened as she looked at Henry—looked at him—for the first time in months.
“I… I don’t know,”
She said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“But maybe we should talk. Not here. Somewhere real.”
Judge Bledsoe smiled faintly.
“Court is adjourned.”
As the gavel fell, Henry turned to Sherry Lynn.
“There’s a little diner down the road,”
He said.
“We used to get cherry pie there after church.”
She nodded.
“Maybe one slice… on the other hand.”
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