I know it isn’t cool to admit to liking country. At least for me, growing halfway up on Long Island, New York. I’ve heard all the country music jokes. And I actually think this one is funny:
What happens if you play country music backwards?
Your wife returns to you, your dog comes back to life, and you get out of prison.
But that’s the difference between laughing with and laughing at.
I blame Texas. But not really. Because I’m not ashamed to say I like country. And anyway, it’s not my fault. I was born in Dallas, and according to my father, country music was all that was played at the hospital during my stay. Funny, that.
After they sprung me, the first song I actively remember was You Are My Sunshine, as sung by my Grandparents. To this day the Johnny Cash version makes me cry.
As I got older, I remember the local country station blasting out of the windows of my father’s Blazer. I am a Garth fan from way back. And I got a standing ovation after lip-syncing Kathy Mattea’s Eighteen Wheels and A Dozen Roses for my third-grade talent show. Complete with suede-tasseled cowboy boots.
The best love songs are country love songs. As a teenager, I would listen to a bunch on repeat, wondering what it would feel like when the lyrics to the happy ones actually meant something to me. I’ve since figured that one out.
When I left for Uni, it was The Dixie Chicks blasting out of my Dad’s car windows. When I got there, I’m kind of ashamed to say I began to use my CDs as coasters. A bunch of them don’t play anymore. I blame myself. And Peach Schnapps.
These days, Sarge keeps his CDs well away from me, and that’s OK. He doesn’t like country and I don’t like most of his music. It’s healthy for couples to have different interests.
If my music is on when he gets home from work, he might greet me by saying:
‘Is it raining?’
‘No honey, that’s the song.’
Take last week for example, I had shut down the computer for the day and the house was too quiet. The silence drove me to download a song on my phone. It’s the first song to live in my phone. (I don’t have an ipod/earbuds for the same reason I don’t wear contacts. Because why would you voluntarily poke yourself in the face?)
Anyway, I might have been playing my downloaded song when Sarge got home from work.
‘The hell is that?’
‘I downloaded a song. I’m working on my wedding music choices. The .69 is a wedding expense.’
He raised his eyebrows.
‘Hey, country has Celtic roots. Be nice or I’ll play it again.’
This was the song. Kinda my new favourite:
Do you like country music? It’s OK if you don’t. Bless your heart.
PS. This is my 200th post. If you’ve ever wondered why I ramble on here, I blame Texas. But not really.
PPS. This post does not imply that if you are from Texas, you must love country music. But if you are, and you do, hi.