Musician's Widow

I love Nashville. I really do. Its become my home, and I lovingly refer to it as “my city.”

However, it has a high failure rate in one location.

Texas Music concerts.

Which, really, it makes sense for Texas Music to not fit in Nashville. I mean, Nashville isn’t in Texas, which is a big problem right there! And a big part of the charm of the Texas Music scene is that its not polished. It’s not clean like the Nashville sound. It’s a little more rock-and-roll, whereas I think Nashville leans a little more towards to pop-sound to morph its Country sound here and there.

Jason Boland & Cody Canada

Just going and being at a Texas Music concert in Texas is a big part of the fun. You have your hardcore rednecks. You have your bitchy girlie-girls. You have your drunk guy who’s going to probably spill his beer on you at some point in the night. It’s elbow to elbow and you can hardly stir the crowd with a stick. You have to get there at least an hour to two hours before showtime if you want to be even remotely close to the stage. You’re probably going to have the urge to cuss at least ten people out at some point.

But you’re ultimately surrounded by people who GET it. Who are passionate about the music. Who know the words to all the band’s cover songs, new songs, old songs, and who are going to know exactly when to participate and when to sit back and take it all in.

Going to see a Texas Music group in Nashville is missing a good chunk of what makes the experience so incredible. It’s fun to see all the Texans (and a few from Oklahoma!) in Nashville come out. Often sporting either their University’s colors (There’s usually some fun Big XII trash talk going on.) or their favorite old Cross Canadian Ragweed t-shirt. There’s a buzz in the air, but its diluted. It’s level of rowdiness is no where near that found “back home.” No one sings the words of the songs OVER the artist. In a lot of ways, its impossible to explain how or why. It’s just not the same.

Eli Young Band @ HLSR

I went last week to see Eli Young Band at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo. I’ve seen the band several times in Nashville, and every time been blown away by their show. But I’ve been severely let down by the audience. That night at the show in Houston, I was amazed. AMAZED.

In that huge rodeo arena, where everyone was spread out. You could STILL hear the fans singing OVER the band. You still had your rednecks and your bitchy girlie girls. But more than anything, you had that passion of the people who GET it.

Since that night, I’ve been listening to my favorite Texas artists, reliving in my mind the many shows I’ve seen with friends. Laughing at memories of them. Wishing I could be at one of those shows in that very  moment. Wanting to show my husband what it was all about. Wanting to call my girlfriends and tell them to saddle up and let’s go! It’s showtime!

Oh, I still get excited to know a Texas Music artist is in Nashville, and I’ll try to make the show. However, if I miss it, its not that big of a deal. Because I know that I’ll ultimately leave the show feeling a little unfulfilled. The music and the artist will be great, but the audience just won’t be what I’ve come to know and expect. Chances are, I’ll even leave early. I’d rather save up and make the trip “back home” to see a show. Because I know it is then and there that I’ll truly get my money’s worth.

PS – Nashville, I still love you! But no one is perfect.

I was born and raised in Texas, but I call Nashville, Tennessee home now. However, from January – April, I spend more time in Texas than in Tennessee.

See, my parents own and operate a bookkeeping and income tax preparation service. I’ve worked for them off and on for over ten years, and in the past couple of years we’ve realized something. They need the help during tax season, and its the time of year that my husband and I desperately need one of us working more steadily. So, instead of them hiring someone else that they’d have to train, and instead of me finding some part-time temp work, we discover a win-win situation for us all.

Win-win outside of the fact that I am away from home for weeks at a time. We joke that its the time of year in which I go on the road for work. Its work that I do honestly enjoy. There’s a nice familiarity to it, and it is kind of fun! (Besides, how can you not be grateful for the opportunity to spend quality time with your parents?)

Then come summer, its my husband who goes on the road for work for days — occasionally weeks — at a time. He’ll be off doing his job which is a huge part of who he is. Music is, I think, actually part of his genetic make-up! It’s that much a part of him.

Needless to say, within all of this, we’re good at being apart. Doesn’t mean we LIKE it. It just means we’re not going to fall apart being apart.

So here I am, writing from home. Nashville-home. Wishing I could make these next few hours stretch and lengthen. Tomorrow, I head back to Texas to finish out tax season, and I won’t be back home for over a month. Luckily, my husband’s job will bring him within a few hours of me in a few weeks, so I’ll at least get to spend a little while with him before I go home. I’ll be looking forward to that more than anyone knows.

See, as cheesy as the line has become thanks to a certain movie, we really do complete each other. It’s why we’re married and best friends! We both have an extra spring in our step when we’re together. To quote a card my husband gave me when I came home last week: “Good things are twice as fun… Bad things are only half as bad.”

That being said, I am left sitting here pondering the fact that both locations are places I consider “home.” One being where my roots are. The other being where I am laying new roots. Both places have their own rhythm. Both places have elements that I love. Both places have elements I dislike. But in the end… they’re both a part of me.

So every time I fly from one location to another, I feel excited and happy. I also feel an element of sadness to be leaving wherever I am leaving — be it Texas or Nashville. It’s a strange feeling. A strange place to be in. And yet its nice. Nice to have two places to call home.

Home is where the is love. And the more love a person has, the better off they are. Because its more valuable than gold. More precious than diamonds. It’s home.

I heard an article yesterday that a college in Massachusetts is now accepting YouTube videos of students applying for admission.

An excerpt from the story:

“We’re not judging it on the qualities of the production values,” says Lee Coffin, dean of admissions at Tufts. “We’re not looking for Oscar-winning short films. What we’re really hoping to get out of these videos is another part of the puzzles that make up this 17-year-old person.”

I’m glad I didn’t have this kind of pressure on my shoulders when I applied to college!  However, I can’t help but sit and wonder what I’d have done as a video when I was 17. Who I am today and who I was twelve a few years ago are two different people! However, in the same breath, my core values haven’t changed one bit.

First and foremost, I would have to introduce my family. It’s changed some since I was 17. My niece and my husband have both been added to the family since then. More love to go around! I have without a doubt been blessed with the most amazing family. A family that is supportive and loving. A family that laughs together and leans on each other. A family that I can always rely on to be there for me. And one that I will always been here for… they are truly the people who mold me more than anything else.

My faith would also be at the top of the list. My faith and the hope and strength God gives to me is a huge part of who I am. I am not someone who will wear my faith on my sleeve, but I also will not deny it. I will not hold back how much I do lean on it to get me through trials in life.

My faith is stronger today than it was back then.

Home would have to be introduced. Back then, I would have focused on my hometown, and my love for wide open fields and back roads. Today, I would have to show that, but I would also have to put a heavy focus on my city. I absolutely love Nashville and its vibe. I love its melting pot of people, and the wonderful friends I’ve made there.

My school would have to be acknowledged. Back then, high school and the pride I had in my school then. Today, being an Aggie is a bigger part of who I am than anyone could ever understand or truly respect. Digs against my school could very will be considered a dig against me personally. My school is more than its football team. My school is a family in and of itself. I could never ask anyone to understand. All I ever ask is to for it to be respected.

Finally, lots of little quirks make me who I am. Back then, things like yearbook, newspaper, band, flags, CDs and my pick up truck would be who I would introduce. Today, writing, photography, travel, my cats, my home, and a good home-cooked meal would probably be what I add to the mix.

Come to think of it, there would be absolutely no way for me to capture all the things that make me who I am in a way that would be true to myself. I suspect many of those applying for admission are realizing that fact, and are instead taking the catchy route. Sometimes its easier to entertain than it is to study yourself.

But at 17 — heck at ANY age — its not a bad idea to do just that. Take time to consider what it is that makes you who you are, and a step beyond that… how do you portray that to the world?

Out with the old! In with the new! Isn’t that the best way??

Not necessarily. I look around sometimes, and I feel a deep sadness in my heart when I see old abandoned buildings that once stood tall and proud. They were the new, bright and shiny location once upon a time. Today, they sit forgotten and ignored. Empty shells where perhaps a lonely ghost wonders, or perhaps a homeless man or woman finds shelter.

As I write this I realize I could be equally writing about my hometown as I am about my current town.

Walk through the downtown square of my hometown, and you’ll find many empty store fronts. Yes, some now house businesses, but it is nothing like the bustling square my dad talks about it having been at one time.

The drug store that had anchored downtown for so many years finally closed a couple years ago, sending its clients to the CVS Pharmacy at the edge of town. The jewelry store where many of my graduation gifts came from, where my mother’s engagement ring came from, where my brother and sister-in-law registered for their wedding, closed a few years ago. That location, luckily, does now have a new tenant. Both national banks remain, and we are the county seat and trials do keep people coming into downtown.

However, if you look at the sides of the buildings, you can still faintly see the advertising that had once been painted there. Western Auto, Sears, and other department stores have long ago left. The jail is now a museum.

I look at old photos of my hometown, and its almost as if you can feel the town’s energy cutting through the years. A bustling, busy square. Back when taking trips to the bigger named stores a couple towns over was a big trip… treated more like an event than something we just do without thinking about anymore.

Out with the old. In with the new. More is better. Go! Go! Go!

The problem is that out with the old often doesn’t mean it goes away. It means its left to decay and sit as a shadow of what it once was.

Arcade

It’s no secret that I absolutely love Printer’s Alley in downtown Nashville. That little strip of bricked road has this amazing vibe that you feel if you only stop for a moment and let it sink into your soul. It’s history excites me. I want to tell the world all about it! A dream of mine is to write a book on the Alley to do just that! Its something I need to do soon before the people who can tell the tales of its glory days, the days when it was the Vegas Strip of all the South, start to die off and its interesting (and often sordid!) history is silenced for good.

All of Nashville’s history interests me. I could — and have — spent hours on end in the public library researching the city’s history. I wish I’d loved the subject in general this much when I was in school!

However, as I drive through the streets of my city and I look up in awe at the high rises, I also look down and see many forgotten buildings — not unlike my hometown. I stroll through the Arcade, a place once bustling with so much activity, and I see only a shadow of what it once was.

Friends who grew up in Nashville, who remember the glory days of the Alley and Nashville in general, tell the tales of their memories, and I find myself enthralled. I hang on to every word. I imagine my eyes shine like a child’s would at Christmas. I feel at the same time, though, a sadness deep down to see so much changed and lost. I see my beloved Alley now being ignored, almost as if the powers that be wish it would just go away.

Out with the old. In with the new.

I am perhaps one of the minority that hates the idea of the new convention center downtown. I ask, “WHY?” as I point at the many empty large facilities that dot downtown. Some of which that have long been ignored. Buildings that were once the biggest thing going, now left empty and ignored. Hosting the random show here and there, but on a whole no longer loved as they once were.

An article appeared the City Paper recently that echoed my melancholy thoughts perfectly as it questioned the closing of the fairgrounds.

“First they moved the Grand Ole Opry out of town, and now they’re running stock car racing out,” Denson said. “They’re doing away with the history and tradition that made our city so unique and special. It’s sad to see.”

It’s sad to see. Call me a sentimental fool, but I think so much of what made Nashville special is ever so slowly being lost. I could also very easily say the same about my hometown in Texas, only my hometown just stopped all together. Nashville is at least progressing as it forgets its past.

And while the city still loves to tout its Lower Broadway and its honky-tonks, the dirt and grime were cleaned up considerably in the past couple of decades, turning seedy into trendy. — City Paper Article

I’m all for making the city safer, and I am all for growth. If you don’t grow you’ll die on the vine. But as you grow, you can’t forget where you came from. That goes for cities just as much as it does individuals. Learn from the past. Honor the past. Keep a bit of the old as you bring in the new.

In six days, I will be attending my 10 Year Class Reunion. In these days, I will take the opportunity to look back on ten of my favorite elements of high school (in no particular order of importance)…

#6 – Life outside school

High school days do indeed always seem to focus on what happens within the confines of “high school life.” But as I look back on those four years, I see many things in my personal life — life outside of school — that changed dramatically.

* My brother got married. November 1995.

Wedding Party

My first semester of high school, my older brother got married. Definitely a transition for me! He’d gone to technical school out of high school, so its not like he’d never been away from home. But it was still going to prove to be a big change. He had been that one dear friend that had always been there my whole life. Believe it or not, he and I really never — or at least very rarely — fought like most siblings do. We had a mutual respect and admiration from the beginning.

Now, he’d never be across the house any more, and in that respect I was a little sad that day. However, in my heart I knew he was starting a new chapter of his life, and I was genuinely happy for him… for them both!

The wedding was beautiful, and the day a blur. It was my first time being a bridesmaid, and I was still a newbie to high heels. THAT could have been a disaster, but thankfully all went smoothly. Many wonderful memories exist from that day, and I cherish them all.

The long and short of it all, though, my family changed right after my high school career started. And I wouldn’t trade that change for anything…

* My first concert, Fan Fair, & Nashville. 1997.

Fan Fair 1997 -- (Clockwise rom top left) At the Country Music Hall of Fame; Me and Mom in from the the Ryman; Me and Michigan J Frog -- the WB was brand new; Me and Bryan White

My Sophomore year, I dipped my toes into what would eventually become my whole life… only I didn’t know it then.

On Feb. 14, 1997, a friend and I went to see Thrasher Shiver, Ricochet and Bryan White. I admit. I was one of those girls who was madly in love with Bryan White, and I was on cloud nine the whole night. On top of it all, I had scored floor seats. We were only maybe 15 rows from the stage. I had a BLAST and was pretty much hooked.

That summer, my parents and I made the trip to Nashville to attend Fan Fair. My very first visit to Nashville, and we all remember my saying, “Wow, I feel like I just came home. I’m going to live here some day.”

What do you know? I do now!

The funny thing is, there are big parts of Nashville I just don’t remember. We drove down Broadway, and we went to the Ryman. I remember the Ryman but not Broadway. Fan Fair was still held out at the fair grounds, which I thought was fantastic. It was all centrally located, and easy to go from the live shows all day to the booths. I laugh now as I go through photos from those days… the people that I snapped photos of that I now know personally. Or the ones that were so big back then that are now long ago forgotten.

I stood in line for hours on end to meet Bryan White! We took a tour of homes, and we saw where multiple stars lived at that time. I remember being enthralled with tour buses. Today? A bus is a bus, and my husband co-drives them.

My how times changed. I guess you could say, though, that the trip to Nashville was a glimpse into the future, and on some level I knew that. But had you asked me seriously that last night before we drove home, and we sat in the audience of the Grand Ole Opry, “Will you be watching your husband on that stage some day, while standing backstage?” I’d have laughed and said no…

…and I’d have been wrong.

* My nephew was born. October 1997.

I was a proud aunt

First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then come baby in a baby carriage!

Stands to reason that after my brother got married my freshman year, that there would be a good chance I’d have a niece or nephew by the time I graduated. Sure enough, fall of my Junior year, my nephew made his appearance to this world.

Now, he came into this world early. Premature, he was smaller than the Elmo doll that sat in his baby bed. He spent weeks of his life in NICU where family could come visit after putting on a gown and scrubbing up carefully. He started day one of his life fighting. He started day one as the light of many of our lives.

I still remember New Years Eve 1998. My parents and I baby sat him for the night, and he had to wear a heart monitor around his little chest. If it shifted too much, it would go off with a beep that would make him stir.

We eventually opted to take the monitor off so he could sleep, but I remember hardly sleeping a wink. I was constantly getting up to check on him. I could watch him sleep for hours and never get tired of it. A living and breathing miracle from God.

Family photo -- Christmas 1997

To fast forward a little past high school years, around age four or five, he was diagnosed with Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy. He’ll never play sports, and while he can still walk, he has a wheelchair to use when he gets too tired and sore to walk anymore. Swimming, go-cart riding and fishing are among his favorite activities. He’s a Tenderfoot in Boy Scouts, and he just started to play saxophone in the band. He’s a straight-A student.

He is my biggest hero. Like I said, from Day One he entered this world as a fighter. And fought he has. He gets frustrated when he trips and falls. And I know he probably gets picked on at school now and then. He never lets it get him down. He’s a local spokesman for MDA, and this weekend he’s appearing on the telethon.

He teaches everyone he knows about Muscular Dystrophy and MDA. But more than that… he teaches everyone to not give up. To keep your head up. That just because you can’t do one thing, it doesn’t mean give up. It means find that thing you are good at, and give that thing your all.

I really believe God never gives us more than we can handle. And my nephew handles something this big with such grace and optimism… he’s one of the strongest people I know.  Him… his mom… his dad… his sister. I admire them more than they will ever know.

* My grandpa passed away. December 1997.

Me, Grandpa, Mom

My grandma on my mom’s side passed away long before I was born. So growing up, I only knew my grandparents on my dad’s side, and then Grandpa on my mom’s side. So, don’t think it weird when I say that in December 1997, I lost my first grandparent.

This was a man that rode a bicycle around town into at least his 70s. I remember going to visit him and my brother and I would get softballs, baseball, tennis balls, golf balls, whatever we wanted that he had collected on his travels through town. We would go every few weekends and take Grandpa to church, then go out to eat. It was a nice familial routine we had for years. I miss that sometimes still today.

Grandpa had been in a nursing home for awhile already and his health started to go downhill in ‘97. He had already beaten throat cancer, and when he passed away at 91 he could say he had lived a life of hard work.

Somewhere, a photo does exist of my grandpa, my mom, my brother and my nephew… four generations together. We were lucky to get that photo, as my nephew was only two months old when Grandpa passed away.

Death is never easy, but its a part of life. There are many people who have never had to deal with a loved one passing away, and while they are very lucky… I think that’s a key lesson in life that needs to be learned. It helps to respect life and to cherish every day… every hour… every minute we have with our loved ones.

I joked tonight that I’ve lived in Nashville too long when a movie being filmed outside my place of work annoyed me instead of leaving me excited. I say that about running into singers, actors, etc. as well because on a whole I really have just come to take it in stride. (Though I have to confess, George Strait made me totally freeze up and start stuttering and lose a great opportunity to possibly meet him, but some day maybe the chance will return. Doubtful. But maybe.)

I do think the whole Hollywood thing is pretty exciting. And there is a true mystique and fascination that exists around the whole TV and movie making process. I admit to getting wrapped up in it on occasion myself. Getting to participate in making the new Lee Ann Womack video was pretty incredible.

But twice in my life, Hollywood has made me throw my hands up in the air and want to scream in frustration.

My first Hollywood experience was actually in little ol’ Marlin , Texas, in 2005 when they used the Falls County Courthouse to film a lot of scenes for the movie Infamous whose cast included Sandra Bullock and Sigourney Weaver. I was working at the town’s newspaper at that time, and of course this was the biggest news to hit Marlin in probably almost 20 years. (Well, the biggest bit of positive news.)

They filmed inside the courthouse and outside the courthouse. For exterior scenes, they put out a call for classic cars to line the streets around the courthouse. To be honest, the cars got me more excited than the stars, but then that’s just how I roll.

Dawg.

Whatever.

On the afternoon that they filmed some of the exterior scenes, I went out to try to get a few photos for the next week’s issue. I was careful to stay OUT of the way, but before long I was sniffed out and scolded to not take any photos due to the need to keep things about the movie confidential. I could respect that fact up to a couple points. One point was the fact that Marlin is a small town that I doubt any entertainment reporters would be picking up our paper to sniff for things about the movie. The other point was the one in which they started to impede my ability to do MY job.

It took awhile, but I did finally get them to leave me alone enough to take pictures of the cars all around the square. One gentleman offered to let me sit in his car and watch from afar, which I gladly accepted as at that point I had to crouch down behind all these cars to stay out of view.

Eventually, the movie was done filming. We ran the photo I took of the cars in the paper. And life moved on…

I never did see the movie. It’s in my Amazon.com wishlist in case anyone cares to buy it for me.

Fast forward four years, and I had my second Hollywood experience. This time, Nashville, TN. Printer’s Alley. My job? Working in one of the bars in the Alley. The filming is going on in the bar next to the one at which I work, but it somewhat disrupts things in the whole Alley.

Now, understand, when I heard days ago about a movie being filmed in the Alley, I got excited about how much great PR this could mean for it. Perhaps seeing our Alley in a movie would bring visitors next year?

However, going into the night I was already in a bad mood, but it didn’t take long for the bad mood to sour further. I quickly felt like I couldn’t do my job properly lest I cause some sort of problem between “Quiet! Filming!” barks and worrying about how our band would be able to load in their gear. Ultimately, I wanted to do my job, while they did theirs, but struggled with how to do just that.

Again.

And I have to admit. That frustrated me. I believe my exact phrase was “Pain in the a–, huh?” to my husband as he pulled in to unload his gear to play.

I often get this exact same frustration from tourists who seem to forget that while Nashville is a tourism-centric city, it’s also home to many people. We’re happy to have you here. But please don’t stop us from living our lives; doing our jobs.

Chances are tomorrow night I’ll have my third experience, as apparently filming will be again occurring in the Alley. I don’t know if that will go into the night and overlap with my time there. But, the chance is there. And I can’t say that it excites me.

Call it a pessimistic approach to the experience if you want.

Me? I call it an experienced approach to it.

Because that’s how I roll.

Dawg.

Whatever.

I can’t get to upset. I’ve been guilty of it myself.

Fans waiting to get into a show, Fan Fair 2008

That assumption someone remembers your name even though you only see them once in awhile.

This week is CMA Music Fest in Nashville, better known as Fan Fair. It’s honestly one of my favorite weeks of the year, even though it means little sleep and being on your A-game at all times. I thrive under pressure! This is the week in which country music fans descend upon Nashville to get up-close to their favorite artists and get a taste of Music City.

However, its also the time I always make SOMEONE angry. How? I don’t remember them from the year before.

Last year was the worst in which one woman spent an entire night shooting daggars at me, because I dared have no idea who she was… even though she’d met me at this artist’s show in this random city on this random day and we talked for fifteen minutes.

I sincerely try to remember people’s names and their stories. However, especially living in Nashville, I meet literally hundreds of people a year. I am going to forget someone’s name in there. I’m not perfect. I never claim to be.

I feel for my husband and all the musicians. They have is 10000xs worse. Especially if they’ve worked for multiple artists over the years. They have a lot of fans they’ve met over time. Most of the time, there IS facial recognition. But remembering a name and city can often require a little help.

I love that fans remember so vividly ever details of a conversation they had with an artist or their band (or the occasional wife). I did it too for years. I am just as guilty of assuming that the other person remembered me just as vividly! However, the fact of the matter is, its just not possible to remember EVERY conversation. At least not for me. Try as I might, I often can’t remember what someone ordered to eat from me an hour earlier if I’ve made ten hot dogs since then!

I don’t want to offend anyone, so I propose that during Fan Fair, every visitor be given a “Hi! My Name is…” sticker to wear, with an extra line of, “…and I’m a fan of…” at the bottom. I sincerely don’t mean this to be mean, but please… Country Music fans, cut everyone here some slack. We’re REALLY glad you’re here — everyone from the artists to the musicians to the bartenders to the cab drivers — but we’re also not perfect. Please don’t be offended if you initially get a blank stare when you see someone you know. We mean you no offence. We’re just frantically going through our mental Rolodex… and sometimes that takes awhile.