Musician's Widow

I live a few blocks away from a high school, and in the fall we can listen to football games being played from our backyard. Tonight, I have my windows open and I’m listening to a combination of the football announcer, the band playing and crickets chirping. Guy Fieri and Diners, Drive-ins and Dives flashes across my almost-muted TV.

This is a fairly typical Friday night for me these days, but back in high school Fridays made for long days.

I was in the marching band, first as a flute player then later as a member of the colorguard. Friday nights meant game time. There’s a reason why all the high school football movies are set in Texas. There’s a rabid love for the game at the high school level that I just truly don’t think anywhere else can duplicate. There’s a passion and a love for football across the country, but its definitely amped up a notch or two down there.

In my hometown, I think we lived for football season. It’s when the town came to life. It’s when there was a little extra pride to be found in everyone’s eyes.

As I said, Fridays were long days for me during football season. I lived in the country, which meant when school let out, I almost never went home between school and game-time. There just wasn’t enough time to make it a worthwhile trip. Many times I would leave home around 7:30 am, and I’d not return home until well after midnight (if it was an away game). But that didn’t matter. I ran on an adrenaline that no cup of coffee could ever recreate.

It was all about the lights and the field. It was about the war that was going to be waged goal line to goal line. It was the sound of the band and the smell of the popcorn. It was the little kids watching with glowing eyes; some day they’d play the game or be the cheerleader. It’s the socializing side of the night, when friends would get together and gossip about their week. It was the parents watching with pride (and the mothers watching with a little big of fear). It was the sound of the announcer’s voice booming over the speakers.

“TOUCHDOWN!!”

Eventually, though, we all graduate. We play our last game. March our last half-time show. Cheer our last cheer. Sing our school song with arms around our classmates for the last time. We close that chapter of our lives and we all move on…

…until we hear that announcer across a quiet late-summer/early-fall night. We hear the horns and the drums and the clash of helmets. And if only for three or hour hours we go back to those high school glory-days and let today’s worries and stresses get washed away.

It’s the magic of the Friday night lights, and I, for one, am glad they are back.

…made to kick off the weekend with friends.

Atleast this one is for me.

What’s your definition of this Friday?

Last week was my first edition of “Show stories” and after careful consideration, I’ve decided to make this a weekly contribution to my blog.  Landing either Tuesday or Wednesday, depending on how things fall for me.

This week, I bring you a tale from long before my husband and I were even dating. We’d been friends for years before we made that step, so I have many stories pre-relationship.

September 2003 -- Four friends go on a road trip weekend

So my tale today comes from 2003, when four friends set out on a weekend of fun and live music.

Oh how I stressed prior to this trip. I felt like our lives were in my hands, so I planned and planned. I had a full itinerary printed out with maps and times and phone numbers. Pre-GPS days, MapQuest was a savior (not to mention my Texas Road Atlas!)

I was our road manager for the weekend. And bus driver.

My three best girlfriends (all of whom would later be my bridesmaids) and I jumped in my truck and we took off on a weekend trip that took us to Brownwood, TX then up to Sulphur Springs, TX. Round trip for the weekend was around 650 miles.

We took off out of my hometown on an adventure that I still consider one of my favorite memories of all time. We laughed until our sides hurt at times. We have in-jokes that came out of that trip that still make us laugh to this day.

My friends got to experience what I still call, “Waitin’ on Craig” at shows. I’ve learned over the years that the musician’s life on the road is filled with, “Hurry, hurry, hurry! Okay now wait around for awhile. Now hurry, hurry, hurry!” And that’s something I experienced years in advance without even realizing it. We would get to hang out for awhile, only to have him disappear for long periods of time.

We did get the royal treatment with All Access passes all weekend. Our second show was actually sold out, and we spent it watching from side-stage. We were able to park behind security at both shows, and both netted us some good food.

The first show was a fair, and our host for the night (my now-husband) treated us to a deep-friend s’mores. Yes it was a gooey mess, but as I recall its still one of the most amazing things I’ve ever put in my mouth. I kind of want one right now, actually.

Dunking my class ring... topping off the road trip weekend!

The second show, we all got to take some of the band’s catering back to the hotel with us. A steak dinner that was also amazing. (We spent a long time looking for a six-pack of beer on our way back to our Dallas-hotel, only to learn how much at that area of Texas is dry. My friend who is today an Assistant District Attorney even asked a pair of cops how far we had to drive to get a beer. Insert hysterical laughter here, as well as the realization that it just wasn’t worth it to keep looking.)

I remember in-between shows was a 2 hour drive from Brownwood to Dallas, in which I did successfully miss my exit. Thankfully my co-pilot knows how to read a map and she got us back on track using that handy-dandy Texas Atlas I used to carry with me at all times.  I had hoped to follow the bus to avoid such an issue, but when I realized that waiting for them would probably mean not getting to our hotel until around 6 AM, I decided we’d chance it on our own. We were big girls, and we made it just fine.

A highlight of that weekend was dunking my class ring. I’d gotten it about a month before, but I had yet to participate in the Texas A&M tradition of ring-dunk. I did so the night of the second show. In a blue Dixie cup. Because I am high class like that.

By the way, both shows were great. But the things I remember most are the events surrounding those shows. A fun weekend with the girls, and getting to see my musician friend… getting to have a little taste of the traveling musician’s life.

Two shows. Two nights. 650 miles. Precious, precious memories.

I have no idea what any of us did to July to make it so harsh this year, but whatever it is, I think I speak for almost everyone, we’re sorry!

I’ve mentioned a few things I’ve experienced this month in this blog. And I’ve left other things out. (Perhaps those will come in a later blog entry.) But all around me, I’ve heard tales of tragedy and hardships.

My two best friends have both had cancer strike their families. My “best friend from high school” has a aunt that was diagnosed, and my “best friend from college” had her mother-in-law diagnosed. Both within a day of each other.

A friend here in Nashville has a nephew that has been diagnosed with cancer as well.

An acquaintance from high school had tragedy strike, leaving her brother and a nephew in a burn unit in Dallas. Her other nephew, however, did not survive the accident.

A client of my family’s business had a heart attack and was left in ICU (out of state!) for a few days because of it.

My own nephew, today, is having a doctors appointment in Dallas regarding his Muscular Dystrophy. These regular appointments are key to his doing as well as he has done all these years, but I also know the appointments are stressful and carry a level of uncertainty every time.

All of these events have weighed heavy on my heart. Each event — every single one of them — are valid concerns and stressors. While some may be considered more “severe” than others, it does not lessen the feelings that come with each and every one.

All I can do, all so many of us can do, is simply say a few prayers for strength and comfort for each person and family affected by these negative events.  I often find myself wondering why? Why do these things happen? Why so many all at the same time?

Then I remind myself, sometimes the reason is not for us to know. Or perhaps the reason will come to light in the future. No matter what, we all pull together and help each other. We support each other. And in the end, we grow from these challenges. They make us appreciate the good times more. They make us work a little harder.

Hang in there everyone. We’re all going to get through all our various trials by taking it a day at a time and by leaning on each other. I welcome anyone needing a place to vent or to share their own story –  no matter how trivial or how extreme — in the comments. Sometimes it helps just to talk, and I’m a good listener.