I never intend to be a different person around my different groups of friends, but it sort of just happens. When we last talked, and when we first met (be it yesterday or twenty years ago) will determine which ‘me’ you know. Very few have the full picture.
A little mysterious, eh?
I love to tell stories, so if you hang around long enough, I’ll hand you more and more puzzle pieces. Today’s puzzle piece: I love country music. I love to listen to it, sing it, play it (I play guitar). Pat Green, Robert Earl Keen, Cory Morrow, Gary Allan, George Strait, Garth Brooks… Ask me nicely, maybe I’ll sing you one more song, about old San Antone…
I didn’t always listen to country music. I grew up hating it, not that I had ever given it a chance. As the youngest in my family, my input was never needed when it came time to choose a radio station. I was converted on the road to Nacogdoches. I left for college in the fall of 2000 and by the time I came home for Thanksgiving, I had one or two of my presets set for country. If you’ve ever been to East Texas (no, Deep East Texas), then you understand. It was inevitable.
To this day I still firmly believe that country musicians are among the world’s best storytellers. I challenge you to listen to a song and not know what he or she is singing about. Nothing can be more obvious than country music. And that’s why I love it. I don’t have to think, I can just listen to the story.