Musician's Widow

With my husband currently not on the road — still shopping for a new artist gig — he’s working harder than ever, grabbing gigs in downtown Nashville in the bars and clubs along Broadway and in Printer’s Alley.

The best part of it all is that he’s home at the end of the night every night. I get to see and spend time with him every day of the week, and for that I do feel very grateful. I am accustomed to the “widow” life of seeing my husband leave for days or weeks on the road, and I know that as soon as he gets a new gig we’ll fall right back into that pace of life. So I am savoring this time together with more fervor than anyone knows, because it could change tomorrow.

The worst part of it, is that he’s working over twice as hard for less pay. We’re having to “tighten up the boot straps” quite a bit, and it’s exhausting going six nights a week. But in that same vein, and I grateful for there being work to do. Many people are getting laid off in their industries, and at least he (we) still has work to do. I give myself that reality check almost daily. Reminding myself that even when I’m tired and want a vacation, I need to instead of grateful to have work and to still be able to pay the bills.

Somewhere in the middle of it all has to be “people.” It’s frustrating to see people (ie the crowd) treat his speakers and keyboard cases like their chairs or drink holders. There is no regard for personal property — for the tools needed for him to do his job. At times I want to ask people if they’d like for me to set my beer on their laptops or blackberrys. If I can perch upon their copy machines. They’d probably be appalled, but in a round about way its the same idea.

In a similar vein, I came in with a group of friends to watch my husband play last night. Slowly, one by one, they meandered off to head home, tired from their work days. Soon, there was only me at the table…

But that never lasted long, as one by one I got hit on by men. It was flattering, yes. (Where were all these men when I was single??) But slowly it grew annoying.

Can a woman not sit at a table alone in a bar and not be needing male company? All were very polite and respectful once I explained the my husband was in the band, and that I was there to see him play. But at the same time, it made me want to find a shirt that said, “Married and with the band. Don’t bother. Save your breath and creativity to find the right line.” I amuse myself some times.

In every business, you deal with the good, the bad and the… frustrating. And every day you go back to your job knowing you’ll have to deal with it all over again. Tonight, my husband will haul his gear back into yet another bar and see his equipment get “disrespected.” I’ll go along, helping to move gear and enjoy a night of good music and people watching… and probably at some point try to politely get someone (male, female, sometimes a whole group of friends there to party) to understand why I am there and that, no, I do not need to be taken care of because I am alone.

My husband does it for his love of music, as well as to pay the bills. I come along for both my own love of music, but mostly for my love and support of my husband. It’s a hat I wear (along with “writer, designer, daughter, sister, friend, etc.)… and it’s the one I am most proud to wear.

Since my last post, there have been many changes in our life!

October brought us moving into our first house. November brought both of our birthdays. December brought the holidays. And January… well January meant half the month off the road for my husband, and our having to buckle down and try to cut costs anywhere and everywhere we can.

We got married last January due to the fact that I knew it was the only time of the year, I was 99% guaranteed that my husband would be off the road and we could have a wedding without conflicting schedules.

It’s wonderful to have that time together. It’s a treat to get to spend an extended length of quality time, just us. I got used to going to bed with him every single night. And after having him home for about a month, it makes this first run a bit harder to handle as we get back into the swing of life as we know it.

It’ll be nice to have the stead income again. We can breathe a sign of relief there. And I have no doubt he is loving being back out on the road, playing the music he loves. Here at home, I’m buckling down myself and getting all sorts of work projects done myself. Web-sites, advertising, letters, etc. We’re both focused on work again.

But I do miss him. Especially when he ends up in one of those random areas where there is no cell service, so we don’t even get the luxury of talking on the phone. And this run happens to end right as I am flying out to do some thing back in Texas. So we’ll completely miss each other there. I’ll see him again when I make it back to Nashville after handling my things. This is fairly typical of us, though, so we’ve been here before. And we’ll be here again, I know.

I miss him. I just remind myself… it’ll make our time when he gets back home all the more sweet.

In 2004, I boarded my first plane. I was nervous, not only for the flight but for the adventure upon which I was about to embark.

I remember listening intently to all the safety procedures that the stewardesses presented. I took a deep breath and held on tight. Away we went! Landing was a nerve wracking experience, but it went fine and I soon found myself standing, for the first time, in the Nashville International Airport.

I had traveled to Nashville to spend my first trip far away from my parents. It was a week with a friend — one that I had absolutely no clue would end up being my husband three years later in a city I hoped to some day live. I ended up having a good time, though stresses surrounding my presence left me on the couch much of the time with an upset stomach and migraine headache. I succeeded, nonetheless, in experiencing many of the highlights of Nashville, and I left the city a week later feeling smarter and glad I’d made the trip.

It would be over a year before I’d fly again, but since then I’ve logged thousands of air miles. Every single one of them due to my husband. Trips to Nashville to visit as our relationship changed and grew. Then trips to Portland, Oregon; Las Vegas, Nevada; Atlanta, Georgia; Jackson, Mississippi; and Honolulu, Hawaii… all with (or to be with) my traveling musician. I’m an airplane professional!

Today, I fly to visit my family back home in Texas. I continue to log the miles constantly, and the tales of my travels seem to always have an amusing angle to them. Everything from flying to point A and renting a car to continue to point B, to spending hours and hours in an airport waiting for a delayed flight.

My latest two flights both consisted of seeing my husband off… behind security.

This last trip back home occured only an hour before my husband caught a plane himself to a show. We ended up going through security together, kissing good bye, and then walking to opposite terminals to catch planes going to completely opposite ends of the country. The time before, I landed back in Nashville only a few hours before he took off for a show. He drove our truck to the airport, and as I kissed him hello and goodbye, he handed me the keys to drive it back home!

Being married to a musician always guarantees that things will not be boring. I rarely go with him on the road, but I do try to go any time I can. It’s allowed me to see placed I’d have probably never seen otherwise. Three years ago, I was terrified to fly. Today, it’s as natural as walking. I look forward to our next adventure!

I will be leaving our apartment in about 20 minutes to go pick up my husband from the airport. I am sitting here pretty much twiddling my thumbs. Supper will be ready to take out of the oven (or rather just place on “warm” until we get home) in the next 5 minutes. So, that will leave me about 15 minutes to kill.

I assure you that as it gets closer and closer to time to leave, everything will start working against me, and I’ll be late to pick him up.

It NEVER fails. Time to kill until I go pick him up at the airport or the bus lot. Then I still end up being late. Thank God my husband is patient with my incessant talent for being late or early… never right on time.