Showing posts with label country music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label country music. Show all posts

Saturday, December 30, 2023

Hallelujah

Earlier this year, I found myself in the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum in downtown Nashville, Tennessee. On the first level of the building there is a fountain that people toss coins into. 

Back in June, I sat on the edge of that fountain and I looked at all the coins that had been tossed into the water. I people watched for a while, appreciating the audacity of women who wear shorts and cowboy boots, and then I wondered whether I should throw a coin in and make a wish. 

So that's what I did. I reached into my purse, pulled out a penny, made a wish and then watched my penny sink to the bottom, surrounded by other people's wishes. I even took a picture after I threw my penny in.

(Afterwards, a woman came up to me and offered me a free concert ticket for later that morning. Why? Because Nashville is Nashville.)

I'm not sure if you're supposed to disclose what you wish for in this kind of situation. I can say that at that point, early in the summer, I wasn't in the greatest spot in life. It wasn't the worst spot, either, but I was unhappy and I was wanting some things to change. I went on that Nashville trip specifically to get out of town, think about the future, and think about where to go and what would make me happy.

I'm glad to report that today, the second to last day of 2023, the wish that I wished for that day in Nashville came true. In fact, it came true later in the summer.

I've been very quiet on this here blog for the past six months. I didn't blog at all about that Nashville trip and I kept quiet about moving a couple of hours away to the largest city in my state. (Not Kansas City, silly. That's in Missouri.) 

On the plane to Nashville that day in June, the flight attendant made an announcement that I wrote into my phone: "Welcome to Nashville, where all of your wildest dreams can come true."

Also written down in my phone: "There are tons of airlines to choose from, and we're grateful you can't afford any of them."

Anyway, I tried to blog about that trip over the summer, but I literally couldn't do it. I sat down several times and tried to force something, but the words just didn't come out.

How can I go to Nashville and not write about it? How can I go to such a beautiful city and just ignore it on my blog?

I understand now why I couldn't write about it six months ago. I asked life for a change, and then I needed to be patient while life changed.

Back to that whole moving thing: I now live in a city. I love cities! I went to a Pentatonix concert last week and they sang my favorite song of theirs, Thank You, right in front of me and in front of 15,000 of my closest friends.

Watch the snow fall down like me sometimes
But you pick me up and then pick me up again
Like the winter leaves I can't survive
Without your light

Thank you for your smile
It's warmer than the fire
Your gentle laughter
Is sweeter than a choir
I'll never know
The right words to choose
So all I can say
Is thank you

I cried. The woman beside me hugged me. 

The encore, of course, was Hallelujah. I put my phone in my pocket, sang along to every word and didn't even try to stop the tears from running down my face. Any day you hear that song live is a pretty good day in my book.

So that's what 2023 was for me — it was a cold and broken Hallelujah. 

It was also a wish, a dream and a prayer, all of which came true. 

(Monica's note: I live in Kansas, not Nashville. I'm writing about Nashville now because sometimes stories come out months later, after they make sense.)

(Also, I met Eric Church this year. I could only say 'hi' and 'thank you' to him, but I'm pretty sure it was a mesmerizing 'hi' and 'thank you' for him. So there's that.)

Friday, May 12, 2023

I'm having a record year

I got a pretty cool email a couple weeks ago congratulating me for winning the lottery, and now I probably need to explain that.

I entered into a chance to attend a fan club party during CMA Fest in Nashville in June for my favorite country singer. I've never won a meet and greet before this, so I had little hopes of actually winning. In fact, after I put my name into the hat, in true Monica fashion, I forgot all about the hat and moved on with my life. 

I checked my email one Friday morning a couple weeks ago, and I had an email from that country singer's headquarters (I love those emails!) saying that I had won the lottery. If I can get to Nashville that day and want to, I'm invited to attend the fan club party. 

If you even have to ask me whose fan club party it is, I mean, do you really even know me at this point?

I'll give you a brief overview about my favorite things to write about, talk about, and my favorite things ever — music, traveling and Eric Church.

I became a fan of Eric's music after I listened to the song Record Year in the context of a break up. When I was 30, pretty much on my 30th birthday, I was ghosted by the guy I was dating. He eventually married the girl he cheated on me with. 

Who says chivalry is dead?

I had just bought a house, a house that was too big for just me, and I had nothing better to do than to sit in it at night, cry, and listen to music.

I was not a fan of Eric's music before that. But for whatever reason one night, in the midst of my first real heart break, I remember searching for the song Record Year on Spotify. I sat down and actually heard the words to it. 

I think music finds you when you need it. At that moment, I needed that song to get over my break up. I needed an album with no love songs on it. I wanted to listen to music, but I didn't want mushy songs about love. 

It turns out I needed the Mr. Misunderstood album. I needed a song about killing someone in New Orleans (I did what I had, I have no regrets/when you cross the line, you get what you get), I needed Mixed Drinks About Feelings (self explanatory), and I needed Holdin' My Own (also self explanatory). 

Also, I had a couple of three year olds in my life at the time (they're nine now), so the song Three Year Old was pretty fun to listen to.

I listened to Mr. Misunderstood over and over in my house that year, as loud as I could get my speakers. I ended up seeing the guy a couple of times over the summer that year at various events, once I was expecting and once I was not expecting. 

I walked back to my house after, locked my doors, and turned Mr. Misunderstood up as loud as I could. 

The whole neighborhood listened to Eric Church that afternoon. 

My parents came to my house afterward to check and see if I was okay (they were at the same event where the guy and his replacement for me were seated near us). To this day, I still remember the text message my mom sent me when I didn't hear the doorbell ring. 

"I hear Eric Church music playing, so I'm going to assume you're okay. Let us know if you need anything. Love you."

That's kind of been a theme of my life since. As long as there's Church music playing, I'm all right. 

The fact that my love for this man — Eric Church, not the other guy — started out of heart break is not lost on me. I've done some pretty cool things in the past few years since then, all because some dude I don't think about anymore broke my heart in to a million little pieces. 

I went to a concert in downtown Nashville, by myself, and was front row. I flew halfway across the country in December, my favorite month, where I fell in love with life all over again and went to two more concerts. 

I cried during Record Year while standing front row while holding hands with a stranger in Denver. I danced and sang and drank and had a great time with newfound friends in Washington D.C. 

I've traveled on planes, trains, and automobiles, sat in airports in big amazing cities and even sat in some mediocre cities. I've fallen in and out of love several times. 

I've learned just how capable I am at being alone and how capable I am at life. 

I'm doing fine.  

I can hold my own with the best of them. 

Concerts #17 and #18 are next month for me. I might not be an original fan who was there since day one, but I will remain loyal to that man (Eric Church, not the guy who cheated on me) for a very long time. 

Sometimes fans ask me if I wish I had been there at the start of his career. Do I regret missing it, they ask? 

My answer is always no. I think I found his music when I needed it most. 

One of my favorite blog posts I've ever written is called 'Damn it baby, dammit.' It's written with song lyrics to Eric Church's song It's Over When It's Over intertwined in it. It was written in September 2016, the night that I bought concert tickets for the first Eric Church concert I went to. 

I was heartbroken. I needed a break up song, I needed a musical leader and I needed a heartbreak anthem. 

I found it, and so much more.

Damn it baby, dammit. 

That first concert was the best concert I'd ever been to. I didn't think about the guy who broke my heart once. The next day I woke up and thought, I need another concert and I need it RIGHT NOW. One is not going to suffice. 

Can I get some more of that sweet happiness in my life? 

These Boots in Wichita, Kansas, in April 2017.

--

So I'm going to go to this party in Nashville because a boy broke my heart years ago. 

I don't think I'd have it any other way. 

In the words of someone I've seen in concert 16 times since then: If you find your way back, I owe you a beer for my record year. 

Thursday, August 25, 2022

Buddy sparks

I bought a book while I was in Washington D.C. last week called Chase the Fun — 100 Days to Discover Fun Right Where You Are.

No one has ever accused me of not chasing fun, especially over the past year of my life. There’s a chapter in the book on making new friends as an adult, something that is pretty hard to do. 

From the book: “It’s really fun to make a new friend. To meet someone for the first time and feel those buddy sparks, the ones that tell you this person is someone you could REALLY hang with. YES TO NEW FRIENDSHIPS.”

This blog post is about those buddy sparks. 

I was reading this book at the Chicago airport the other day, got to thinking, and then put the book down and started writing.

Here’s what I came up with.

This is a story about those sparks, and it started last year when some short introverted Kansas girl flew across the country for a concert.

What concert, you might ask?

If you even need to ask, then you don’t know me very well. 

Also, the prequel is right here. Let’s consider this story the sequel. 

--

There are a handful of moments in my life that I will remember forever. These moments are so beautiful, so full of life, light, love and laughter that they stick out to me. 

I went to a wedding last weekend more than 1,200 miles away from Kansas. Late into the night, and just a few drinks in, the groom put him arm around me and told me that he was expecting a blog post about this.

He told me it needed to be even better than the first blog post. He told me what I should include, most of which I can’t publish. All of it I can’t publish, actually.

It was a perfect moment for me to reflect how weird life is and just how beautiful it can be.

I am a huge fan of music, and one singer in particular. At a concert last year, I met a cool group of people who invited me to hang with them the second night. I maybe had a few adult beverages, turned into my drunk alter ego (her name is Tiffany), and then mentioned to the wonderful engaged couple that I wanted to be invited to their wedding.

My memories of that night are fuzzy, but I remember pitching the idea to them. I remember they both agreed to it.

That wedding happened a few days ago, and I was there. Tiffany was there, too.

I know that sounds crazy, trust me. It is kind of insane.

But the thing is, words mean a lot to me. They are how I make a living and they are the thing that I love most in life.

I made a drunk promise at an Eric Church concert to that engaged couple beside me that I would be at their wedding. If I have no other positive attributes in life, I have these — I always mean what I say and I always keep my promises.

This is a story of a wedding, planes, trains and automobiles, one really cool big city, and how my soul is maybe filled with too much wanderlust. 

--

I could talk about the beautiful bride, one of the most beautiful brides I’ve ever seen, and the look on the groom’s face when he saw her walk down the aisle.

I could talk about their wonderful family and friends who introduced themselves to me with open and inviting arms.

I could talk about requesting the song Springsteen from the DJ at the reception, because I really, really wanted to make a memory with them to the line ‘It’s funny how a melody sounds like a memory’ so bad.

My memory from that moment is pretty fuzzy, but I’m sure it was a special moment that we all shared.

Maybe. I don’t remember.

I remember looking at the two of them when they were dancing, when they were coming up to me trying to find each other in the crowd (My response: “She’s wearing white.”) and I remember the way they danced and held each other while the Eric Church song Like Jesus Does was playing.

All the crazy in my dreams

And both my broken wings

Every single piece of everything I am

And she knows the man I ain’t

She forgives me when I can’t

The devil, man, he don’t stand a chance

‘Cause she loves me like Jesus does

I remember thinking that these two beautiful people with beautiful souls just made me believe in love and happily ever afters again. 

--

I took a screenshot of the background on my phone the night the Maryland couple got married. I remember looking at my phone and thinking...you know, EC, this is all your fault. 😆

--

If you are a cumulation of everyone you meet and everyone you surround yourself with, then these two wonderful Maryland souls are literally the best of the best and come from the best of the best.

This is just the best of humanity.

The night of that concert was mentioned in the maid of honor’s speech, as was the shenanigans and tomfoolery that was born that night. Also, the maid of honor mentioned that there was this girl named Monica at that concert and that she was from Kansas, and that she is here tonight at the wedding!

Comments I remember people making at the wedding to me:

“You’re the sparkly shoes girl?”

“Why do I recognize you? Are you the concert girl?”

“I don’t remember your name, so I’m just going to call you Eric Church.”

That comment did me in. I grabbed a beer, laughed my ass off, and headed to the dance floor.

Because why not?

--

When I got back from that concert back in December, I thought that the people I met were great, but I wasn’t expecting them to keep in touch with me. 

And then they asked for my address and then sent me a save the date.

I never thought it would happen. In the middle of that concert night when drinks were flowing, hugs were aplenty and we were drunkingly singing at the top of our lungs, all I remember is being so damn happy and thinking that the people I just met were so cool.

I’m sure they weren’t expecting some short introverted Kansas girl with a drunk alter ego and a blog at their wedding eight months later.

I mean, who really expects that? 

But life is life and sometimes you have a keep a drunk promise.

--

Their wedding was a perfect day and night filled with newfound friends, love, family, friendship, drinking, singing and dancing.

We gathered again.

At the concert, we talked about where we could meet up for shows in the future. At the wedding, I mentioned to the groom that I like traveling and have little to no impulse control when it comes to music.

He looked at me like I had three heads. 

He said: “I know that about you. Everyone in this room knows that about you.”

He continued: “We’re going meet in some random city for a show. How about Tallahassee?”

I’m down, I said.

Groom: “I know. Everyone here knows."

It was a perfect moment for a perfect night.

--

Back in December, I told my parents that I drank rum at that concert and that Tiffany made an appearance on the East Coast. I told them about the people that I met who invited me to pre-game with them at the bar across the street from the venue.

(If there’s a bar, I’m in. No questions asked. I’m in.)

With that look in his eye, that disapproving Dad look, and with a slight eye roll, my Dad said something like: “Let me guess. The people you met that night, you hugged them and told them you loved them, didn’t you?”

Perhaps.

Tiffany is a force to be reckoned with. 

I would like to think that fate led me to meet these people. I switched spots with the family beside me with little kids at that Eric Church concert, because I thought the little kids needed to be closer to the stage.

By doing that, I met this wonderful group of people. My Maryland people.

I would like to think I met them though being a good person and giving little kids my spot, through fate, through God, or whatever entity you believe in. Divine intervention, maybe.

I met these people and ended up at their wedding because of rum.

No good story starts with a salad and water. Good stories and blog posts start with alcohol and live music and drunk introverts with alter egos (the groom has one, too, the only other introvert I've met with the same infliction as me).

--

As I was leaving the reception that night, someone shouted as I was walking out the door.

“When’s the party coming to Kansas?”

Any time, guys. You are welcome whenever you want. I might add that the concerts Eric Church puts on in Kansas City are some of the best of the best. We can stumble into the Power and Light bars afterward, if we’re still able to stand upright after the show, and we could have ourselves a great time.

Also, I’m pretty sure we’ll have a great time wherever we go. Kansas City, D.C., Tallahassee, Nashville, North Carolina or Alaska, or in whatever random ass city we end up gathering at again.

It will be fantastic. 

Like I told them on Saturday night: “I can’t wait to make more memories with you that we won’t remember.”

--

Congratulations to the bride and groom. It was amazing to celebrate your love with you. 

--

Kansas.


Sunday, August 14, 2022

Let's go girls

I'm watching the Shania Twain documentary on Netflix right now, and it's reminding me of a trend that was going around a while back.

People online were encouraging people, particularly women, to listen to the song "You're Still The One" by Shania Twain, and instead of imaging a lover, picture the younger version of yourself instead.

When I did that, and then listened to this song, I cried like a baby.

I'm glad we didn't listen

Look at what we would be missing

It hits me right in the feels.

--

"You're Still The One"


When I first saw you, I saw love

And the first time you touched me, I felt love

And after all this time

You're still the one I love

Mm, yeah


Looks like we made it

Look how far we've come my baby

We mighta took the long way

We knew we'd get there someday


They said, "I bet they'll never make it"

But just look at us holding on

We're still together, still going strong


(You're still the one)

You're still the one I run to

The one that I belong to

You're still the one I want for life

(You're still the one)

You're still the one that I love

The only one I dream of

You're still the one I kiss goodnight


Ain't nothing better

We beat the odds together

I'm glad we didn't listen

Look at what we would be missing


They said, "I bet they'll never make it"

But just look at us holding on

We're still together, still going strong


(You're still the one)

You're still the one I run to

The one that I belong to

You're still the one I want for life

(You're still the one)

You're still the one that I love

The only one I dream of

You're still the one I kiss goodnight

You're still the one


(Yeah, you're still the one)

You're still the one I run to

The one that I belong to

You're still the one I want for life

(Ooh, you're still the one)

You're still the one that I love

The only one I dream of

You're still the one I kiss goodnight


I'm so glad we made it

Look how far we've come my baby

Wednesday, July 13, 2022

The 'Rona diaries, part 1

July 12 — Covid detention day one

 

They say all great empires fall. This great empire, who has seen a bunch of stuff in the last 2.5 years, finally fell on July 12, 2022, with a positive COVID-19 diagnosis.

 

Who finally gets COVID-19 for the first time in 2022?

 

This girl.

 

This is going to be my ‘Rona diary, and I’m going to publish it after I get out of detention. Or maybe before. I don't really have a plan, here. 


Being an adult is kind of like taking a bunch of important papers, arranged in order, throwing them up in the air, and then giving up and just walking out of the the room and leaving the mess on the floor.

 

This morning I woke up with a low-grade fever and a deep cough, two things which absolutely are not normal for me.

 

I took a test and waited around for the results. I was dressed and ready for work, and did a full face of make up.

 

And then I went home, told my dogs they had a ‘Rona mama, and then we set about doing absolutely nothing for the next few days.

 

It’s really hard to do nothing when society tells you to be doing something constantly. I moved a week ago and don’t have internet yet. I did order it, and I will cherish the hell out of it when I can finally find a binge-worthy show.

 

Until then, I’m going to move slowly around and see what I can get done in my new house. I unpacked some boxes, found my old iPods, and I’m in the middle of charging all of them up.

 

I still have the first-ever iPod that was released, plus two other ones (including an iPod Touch, which was so REVOLUATIONARY at the time). I’m looking forward to exploring my music before I discovered who I really love in life, whose last name rhymes with smurch.


I got a CNN notification on my phone, with this story: It's time to start paying more attention to COVID-19 again. 


I read that story standing in my kitchen. The exact thought in my head when I read that story while suffering from COVID: Thanks, captain obvious.

 

Key factors from ‘Rona detention, day one:

-       My friends are going to get a lot of TikToks from me this week.

-       Internet is important.

-       This is why I don’t like planning ahead. Why bother?

-       Instacart is the best thing ever. (Contactless, of course.)




Saturday, May 21, 2022

I'm having a record year.

The Gather Again Tour ended last night in New York City.

After every tour, I set a goal for the next one. In 2017, I wanted to go to Nashville. In 2019, I went. In 2019, I wanted Washington D.C., after talking to fans and having many, many of them tell me that I should go check out The Anthem if I was ever able to get there.

In December 2021, I went, by myself. 

I drove to the Kansas City airport, and almost chickened out when I hit the parking lot. I figured I could go back to my little town, hide out for a few days, and just lie and tell people I went.

I did not chicken out, though. 

I planned that trip pretty carefully, more carefully than I've planned any trip before. Flying across the country alone requires some advance thought, like not drinking much and being able to keep yourself alive through it.

I did drink, and I do not regret it.

I loved D.C. I love that I went by myself, I love that I walked around the listened to music, and I love that I saw that beautiful city in December, my favorite month of the year. 

--

The first show post-pandemic was in Durant, Oklahoma, in June 2021. 

I was supposed to buy a house that morning. I arranged dog care, and figured I'd sign the paperwork and be out of town at noon.

Life did not work out that way. 

I got to Durant at 8:25 p.m., and the first show in 18 months started at 8:30 p.m.

What followed that day was probably one of the worst things that happened to me, but what also followed those days were eight more concerts, seven of which were Eric Church shows. 

There's good and bad in life, and sometimes, you get to experience both of those things at the same time.

Wyoming was next on the concert list, two weeks after I injured my knee and could barely walk.

I stood in the pit line, in excruciating pain, all right, and then hobbled back to my car afterward. There was a new statue at Cheyenne Frontier Days of Chris LeDoux, a man I loved since my childhood.

I did not go see it, because I couldn't walk that far. 

I bought these tickets before my knee injury and before I got really sick. I wasn't even sure going to the rest of the shows was doable for me.

We worked through it, my body and I, along with doctors and a surgeon and other people, too. 

Not traveling is not an option in my world.

--

And then there's Denver, where Monica from Kansas and Ashley from Church happened.

All I wanted at that show was someone to share this with. A friend, family member, lover, whatever. I would have been happy if anyone had been by my side.

It turns out that you can let new people in to experience that.

Denver was the first time that I experienced the front row and waiting outside in the pit line. They were my people. 

And then there's D.C. 

Do we even need to talk about how much I loved D.C.? No, I think my love for that city speaks for itself. 

And then there's Kansas City, the best show of the tour, and Tulsa and then St. Louis. 

It was a record year.

--

Traveling sometimes comes with perils.

I hit a pothole in Missouri that led to two new tires. I smoked my brakes in Colorado and had to get them replaced, which was the first time that's ever happened to me — usually I get them replace a couple of weeks after I return to Kansas.

Oops.

It turns out that what I spent the last year doing now has a name — revenge travel.

From this website: "With these travel thoughts come extensive price tags as well as stacked vacations, as 2021 might just be the year where travelers extend their time away from home by one, two, or even three weeks or more as they get 'revenge' on all the ways that 2020 stripped them of a normal vacation."

Not only did 2020 strip me of a normal vacation, it stripped me of everything, ever. Don't even get me started of everything I lost because of 2020. 

(I lost everything I didn't need.)

Revenge travel is a thing, and I did it eight times in the past 11 months.

So here we are, halfway through 2022. We're starting over. Why am I starting over at 37 years old?

Because shit happens and sometimes you have to move, change, start over and move on, all at once.

Change is hard, but it's easier and better than staying where you're at.

--

Jojo deserves her own photo. 💛

The Gather Again Tour was about healing. It was also about letting go, moving on, meeting new people and experiencing new places. 

It was early morning airport visits, prioritizing myself, drinking with newfound friends, seeing new things and sitting on a rooftop bar in a huge city drinking with those newfound friends.

And sitting on a park bench in D.C., listening to the 10 minute version of All Too Well and deleting the past.

It's gone.

In a word, the Gather Again Tour was perfect.

Perfect.

--

My goal for the next tour is New York City. 

Washington, D.C. was a test to see if I could do a big city by myself. 

I nailed it.

Eventually, I'll get to NYC, a place I dreamed about my whole life and wanted to live in very much when I was younger. 

I know it's possible, and I'll get there, eventually. 

I always do.

I'm having a record year.

Saturday, April 30, 2022

Who doesn't love a good cheating and murder song?

Me: I'm feeling kind of down. I think I'll listen to some music to cheer me up.

Eric Church and Chris Janson's new song: I smile at the memory of my diamond on her hand as she went under.

Raise your hand if you did not see that coming.

✋✋✋ 

I listened to the song a couple of times on Spotify, liked it a lot, and then listened to it. Wait a minute. He goes to his shed to get his shovel after his girl cheats on him.

I think to myself, and then send a message to another fan club member. Did Eric Church just kill someone in a song?

And then I watched the video. Haha!

I never thought I'd see a video of Eric dragging a body into a lake, or video of him being buried, but here we are.

Who doesn't love a good cheating and murder song?

When Chris Janson teased that song in a concert in my hometown earlier this year, I thought it would be a beer drinking song by a river.

It is not.

That's pretty dark, Mr. Church. As one fan put it: "It's deliciously dark."

I love it.

Tuesday, March 15, 2022

About St. Louis


I’m still thinking about this concert, so you’re going to get one more post about it.

- Does anyone in Missouri actually know why they’re driving on the left side of the interstate? I don’t think they do. It’s like a NASCAR race. Everyone is drafting in the same lane, no one can pass each other, and if you pop over to the other lane, you’re screwed.

- Was that a pothole that I hit at 85 mph, or an asteroid crater? No one really knows.

- This year, which is only three months old, I’ve heard country singers perform Whitney Houston, Eminem and Nelly in person. I wish I could go back in time and tell 2020 Monica this. 

- 2020 Monica: Hang on. Life gets better. 

- St. Louis was the perfect way to end my 2021-2022 Eric Church concert experience. In 2017, I was introduced to his fan club when my Mom and I went to the pop-up store at his concert in St. Louis, at the same venue. I asked some fans why there was a group of people waiting outside. The fans told me that was the pit line and explained the Church Choir to me: “Most of them know each other. They follow Eric Church around, get front row in the pit, and drink.” 2017 Monica thought that sounded like a little bit of fun. 2022 me became everything that 2017 me wanted. 

- I held a record up during Record Year, which is the first time I’ve done so. I did not get it autographed, but that’s all right. That song saved my life. 

- Someone I know on the guy that broke my heart in the above story, which led me to the song Record Year: “That guy was the best thing that never happened to you.”

- 2016 and 2017 me was heartbroken and in need of some musical direction. I found it.

- I’ve lived through stuff in the past two years that 2016-17 me couldn’t even comprehend at the time.

- And I’m still here. That’s worth something. 

- During the opening song in St. Louis, which was like 11 minutes long, someone behind me shouted that we were on the big screen. I found a video online that someone took in the nosebleeds. My eyesight is terrible and I can’t see myself on the big screen, but I promise you, I am right there, front row in the pit, singing Nelly back to Eric Church. (See pic above.)

- I did not have that on my 2022 Bingo Card.

- This tour was called The Gather Again Tour. To paraphrase EC: We are meant to gather for fellowship, for drinking. We are meant to be together. 

- I held hands with the girl beside me in Denver and cried to the song Record Year. 

- I hugged strangers in DC, and still keep in touch with them. 

- I smiled and laughed more in the past few months than I have in the last two years. 

- Thank you, kind strangers at concerts, for being open-minded enough to be willing to take some new introvert in. 

- At the start of this tour, I was down. I kept thinking to myself that there must be something wrong with me because I still don’t have anyone to share this with. 

- I have people to share this with now. And for that, I’m forever grateful. 

St. Louis list


I went to St. Louis last weekend, where several first-time things happened. Here’s a list, in no particular order:

- I found a giant pencil. Of course the writer finds a giant pencil.

- I thought about buying a giant pencil, and then I realized that I already have a giant pencil from my childhood. Some things never change.

- I saw Eric Church play the guitar with a sharpie in his hand instead of a guitar pick. Why not?

- He adjusted his glasses when he wasn’t wearing glasses. It happens to all of us. 

- I saw him sing Eminem and Nelly right in front of me. (Hey, must be the money.)

- He drank someone’s beer. I’ve never seen him drink beer. It was glorious.

- He sang Mr. Misunderstood at my end of the stage. Hearing the words “Hey there, weird kid” right in front of you just hits different. 

- I met more concert people. The very cool people in line by me were all in the other pit, which is usual for me on this tour. Sigh.

- They told me that on the last tour, another country artist waited in the out line, along with everyone else. This makes my heart happy. Everyone loves Eric and didn’t mind waiting in line for five or seven hours to see him.

- In 2017, on the Holdin’ My Own tour, St. Louis was the fanciest city that I’d seen in a long time. Since then, I’ve seen Nashville, Washington DC and New Orleans.

- The Midwest just isn’t doing it for me anymore. 🤣

- There may or may not have been a bullet hole in my AirBnB’s window (in a good neighborhood). St. Louis, really? Do we need to sit down and have a little chat?


Sunday, March 13, 2022

Never break heart.


Today was my ninth concert in the past 10 months, eight of which have been Eric Church shows.

Today was my last EC concert of this tour.

That’s good news, mostly, because gas prices are beyond ridiculous right now and I’m ready for a break.

The past 10 months have been about a lot of things for me. Healing, for the most part, but also celebrating new things, letting new people in, being brave enough to do things on my own, moving on, letting go, failing over and over and then failing some more, never giving up, and accepting the fact that life downright sucks sometimes.

And learning how to lean on people, too, when I need help.

The past few years in Monicaland have been rough. I know there are people who lost more than me in life, especially in the past two years, but I think it’s also important to talk about the bad stuff and not shove it aside. 

Speak to loss, if you will.

I’ve talked about what I’ve lost since the pandemic started plenty on my blog. I’m feeling optimistic right now, which is weird, but right now I’m going to look on the bright side of life.

I can walk and breathe without pain (thanks, sinus surgery and kind surgeon who believed me) and not cough every 20 seconds (thanks, a form of acid reflux that doesn’t have heartburn as a symptom and a pill that costs 50 cents per day to fix that).

I can live without pain. I can go places, anywhere, really.

I can do scary things on my own and come out unscathed, mostly. 

I fall sometimes, and one time I fell into a pretty big, deep hole, but I’m not in that hole anymore.

I’m in a place where there’s light and love and happiness and singing and dancing all around me. 

And that is something I do not take for granted.

I’m so happy I lived through what I did, because it brought me to this place.  

I never appreciated the good times until I went through the bad times. 

So thank you, Eric Church, ECB, Joanna, and some of the most amazing people I met over the last 10 months.

I needed help and I needed to heal, and I got that. 

I thought to myself tonight, while looking around me, that it’s really nice to not be broken anymore. 

It feels good. 

This feels good.

I feel good. 

I’m just really happy to be here and to see all of the happiness around me.

Life is beautiful.



Saturday, February 19, 2022

Irritated, but not worried.



I think my favorite part of this weekend is always going to be this: Dad and daughter are walking down the street in the Power & Light District in Kansas City. 

There’s snow and ice on the ground, and they’ve just witnessed one of the greatest concerts ever (I’m biased, though).

To top off that feeling, a few paramedics walk by, wheeling a guy on a gurney who’s obviously had too much to drink.

I asked my Dad if he thought the guy was alive.

My Dad’s response: Look at the paramedics and the expression on their faces. They look irritated, but not worried. 

That means the guy is alive, but just drunk and passed out, my Dad said. Like, passed out cold, not moving an inch.

Dead drunk.

Damn, dude. You did not plan your drinking out well. 

When my Dad and I were recapping our trip, I declared the drunk guy getting escorted to an ambulance after the show as my favorite part.

I’ve never seen that before at a show.

Also, I hope he’s okay. I thought about him today, and that huge ER bill he’s going to get for getting drunk.

That’s a bad day.

This weekend I attended my 14th and 15th Eric Church concerts, and I can honestly say it’s the first time the scene above has played out in front of me.

Kansas City likes to party. 

My Denver and Colorado loving soul hates this, but now that I live near Kansas City (kind of), it’s time that I need to start…embracing it. 

Tolerating it.

Liking it.

Maybe?

Kansas City gave me one of the best concerts I’ve ever been to. It gave me time with my Dad, which is muy bueno.

My Dad has never been to Church. At one point, he told me that he would never go with me, because he “likes rock, not country.”

Well, Dad, I have a secret to tell you.

After the show, my Dad and I talked in Power & Light.

That’s not country, my Dad said. What is that? What do you call that? Rock?

Also, from my Dad: “No wonder he doesn’t win any awards. He doesn’t fit in anywhere.”

🤣

One more Dad comment: He liked two songs that had screaming guitars. Dueling guitars. 

Me: That’s literally every song. 🤷‍♀️

Sunday, February 13, 2022

I wanna dance with somebody.



I’ve had the best week ever.

I’m going to start off with last night, when I went to a concert in my hometown with my bff.

I wasn’t a huge Chris Janson fan before, but I am now. When I bought those concert tickets three days ago, I really just wanted to go to a concert with my bestie. 😎

So Chris comes on stage, a man who literally has 0 percent body fat, and my bestie’s response, a few beers in at that point: “Look at that thigh gap. He’s obviously never pushed out two children.”

😆

It was a perfect night. Ray Fulcher was excellent, and we got to hear Shane Profitt, who has ONE song on Spotify.

I love finding new people. 😍

And, the night was kind of weird. Chris Janson rocked a Whitney Houston song, which I never imagined working in my head, but it totally did.

It was so great. 

And we got Piano Man and some Journey, along with some Lynyrd Skynyrd.

From Chris Janson? 

Let’s not even count the number of times Eric Church was mentioned - not by me, but by Chris and Ray. 

Okay, by me, too.

It was a great night. 

Other highlights: 

- Chris Janson moo’ed at us. Kansas, cows. I get it. I’ve never been moo’ed at a concert. 🤣

- My bff: “His wife is so lucky.” 

- Oh, I want to dance with somebody. 💃 With somebody who loves me!

- I sang that Whitney Houston song like I was Joanna Cotten, guys. I nailed it. 😉

- As per tradition, my parents and I went and found the tour bus before the show, and I bought a shirt afterwards. It’s my tradition, and it will live on. 

- My BFF and I, along with other friends, went to a Chris Cagle concert in high school. We were in the front row. According to BFF, one of the guitar players wasn’t wearing shoes, and I was really bothered by the fact that he was barefoot. I remember that concert, and I even wrote about it in my journal. I do not remember the barefoot guitar player, though.

That’s what friends are for - to remember the stupid stuff you did 20 years ago. 👍

Wednesday, January 19, 2022

Stick that in your country blog.

I spent a riveting 40 minutes on the phone with my parents last night, and what I’m about to share might be my favorite thing I’ve ever written.

I interviewed my parents about concerts they went to, both before and after they met, concerts they took my brother and I go when we were little, the first record they ever bought, and a few other things along the way.

 

I was thinking of breaking this up into several blog posts, but I like it the way it is. It’s kind of long, messy, skips here and there, and rambles a bit.

 

It’s a lot like life. It doesn’t make sense at times, but we’re just going to roll with it and see where it goes.

 

--


 

The first concert my Mom ever went to was ZZ Top in Hays, Kansas, in 1977.

 

She went with a “special friend” who, might I add, was not my Dad. (My Dad was at that concert with a buddy of his, though, which was two years before my parents met.)

 

Me: “Was your ‘special friend’ cute?”

 

Mom: “Yes. But I won’t give details.”

 

That was in 1977. My Mom was 19.

 

The first concert my Dad saw was Barry Manilow, also in Hays, Kansas on October 18, 1975. He was 20.

 

--

 

I stopped this portion of the interview to ask a very important question.

 

If you went to your first concert at 19 and 20 years old, why did you start taking your kids to concerts so young?

 

I was around six years old when I saw Chris LeDoux. My brother was nine.

 

It was a question I genuinely want to know the answer to. In my adult life, I think it’s weird that people experience their first concert after high school. That just seems so old to me.

 

I guess I automatically assume that everyone was raised like I was – going to concerts so young that you’re not even able to form memories of them.

 

So, Kansas parents, why did you take my brother and I to concerts when we were so young?

 

My Mom: “What else were we going to do with you?”

 

Dad: “We tried to sell you, but no one wanted you.”

 

Those answers are perfect.

 

Mom: “We took you places.”

 

Dad: “We wanted you to open your eyes. Look at what you’re doing now.  You’re succeeding.”

 

I don’t know about that, but I’ll take whatever compliment I can get.


My Mom and I at Church in 2017 in Wichita. My first time seeing him!

--

 

Growing up, I remember my Mom being a big country music fan. Dad was more rock. But in my world, Mom was always a country music person.

 

That was not always the case.

 

My parents went and saw Ricky Skaggs in Dodge City. According to them, I was about a year old, so let’s say this is around 1986. (They did not take me.)

 

My Mom said Ricky Skaggs was so good at that show, that she went back and got his autograph after the show.

 

Ricky Skaggs asked my mom if she was a big country music fan. My Mom said not really.

 

Ricky Skaggs said to my mom: “Well, I hope I converted you, darling.”

 

My reaction to hearing that: Wayne Newton’s hitting on Mom!

 

--

 

Other concerts my Dad went to when he was a young lad include Chicago, ZZ Top and Neil Sedaka.

 

My Dad: “There was a band opening for Chicago that no one had ever heard of. It was Charlie Daniel’s Band. I remember seeing them and thinking, ‘Who are these people?!?’”

 

--                                                                           

 

The first concert I ever went to was Chris LeDoux in Dodge City, which is my hometown.

 

My parents and I scoured the internet, meaning we Googled it for about five minutes, and we could not come up with a date for that concert. However, Western Underground came out in 1991, so it was around then.

 

I was six years old and I had Western Underground on cassette tape. I carried my little brown and tan tape player with me everywhere, listening to Chris LeDoux. It had a handle on it and looked like a purse.

 

I loved Chris LeDoux when I was little. This Cowboy’s Hat is still one of my favorite songs.

 

The thing that hurts my heart and soul is that I don’t remember going to his concert. I was too little. I also don’t remember getting his autograph, but I do have it. He wrote my name on it at a meet and greet.

 

My Dad did not go to this concert.

 

According to my Mom, she took my brother and I to a lot of concerts by herself.

 

“Dad always worked late.”

 

A woman going to a concert by herself? That sounds familiar.

 

Bad ass.

 

(Both of us.)

 

--

 

Other interview notes:

 

Faith Hill opened for Brooks and Dunn in 1994 in Dodge City. I was apparently at this concert, although I don’t remember it. More on that later.

 

My brother did not go, and no one really remembers why.

 

I think that’s hilarious.

 

Alan Jackson was in 1995 at the Kansas State Fair in Hutchinson. This is the first concert I officially remember going to. I was 10, and I’ll talk on that more later.

 

--



So, Mom, I said. Before you liked country, what did you listen to?

 

“The Monkeys.”

 

It was the first vinyl she ever bought.

 

According to my Dad, back then (I didn’t ask what years ‘then’ was), there was only one FM radio station, and it was top 40s pop. If you wanted to listen to something else, your friends would tell you about “a good record – you ought to go get it.”

 

--

 

The first record my Dad ever bought was The Rolling Stones.

 

Dad: “There was a contest on who was the best: The Beatles, The Monkeys, or The Rolling Stones. There’d be long arguments about that.”

 

This was in the 1960s.

 

--

 

There was no record store in Dodge City back in the day. My parents bought records through Columbia Record Club, a subscription service from which they bought 9-10 records a year out of Terra Haute, Indiana.

 

Please note that Dodge City, Kansas, is a 2.5 hour drive from Wichita, the nearest major city. Dodge City is literally in the middle of nowhere.

 

Mom: “That was the only way to get records, through the mail.”

 

Also, Gibson’s (a department store) had records. There was no Walmart in 1981, when my parents got married, according to them.

 

Mom: “You had to be part of a record club or go to Wichita. After that, it was 8-tracks, cassettes and CDs.”

 

And then Hastings opened in the early 80s. They had records.

 

Dad: “It was a big deal with Hastings opened up. It was like when Blockbuster opened up. It was a big deal.”

 

(I don’t even know how many times he said “It was a big deal.” It was, evidently, a big deal.)

 

Also, my Dad was a member of an 8-track club.

 

Note: I don’t understand the record club thing. According to my Mom, it was like a modern day Boxy Charm, only for music.

 

You could pick your LP, but if you didn’t send your card in, then you got one that was a ‘record of the month’ that the club picked for you.

 

Mom: “That was the only way to get records out here.”

 

Me: So they sent you records through the mail? Like, snail mail?

 

My Mom: “Yes. It’s like what Church does.”

 

Okay, I get it now. If you bring Eric Church into the mix, then I understand it better.

 

--


 

Okay, parents. What’s the best concert you’ve ever been to?

 

My Dad says Brooks and Dunn in 1994.

 

Dad: “I had a freaking blast at that concert. What got me is that it was in Dodge City, Kansas. It sounded like they were playing in a freaking studio. They didn’t miss a beat.”

 

Mom: “You were drunk.”

 

Dad: “I remember being drunk. They had it goin’ on. They were freaking great. When you see them in an outdoor setting and they sound like they’re in the studio, they just got it goin’ on.”

 

I was at this concert. I was 9 years old and I don’t remember it.

 

I wish I did.

 

My opinion: Brooks and Dunn had it goin’ on back then, and they still have it goin’ on now.

 

Also, when I was in high school, my dad randomly bought me a CD, without me prompting him and not on my birthday or for Christmas. It was the only CD he ever bought me randomly, and for no reason at all.

 

It was a Brooks and Dunn CD.

 

--

 

My Mom’s favorite concert: George Strait in Kansas City in 2001.

 

My parents sat in the nosebleeds at Arrowhead Stadium under a blanket.

 

It was the George Strait Country Music Festival, and my parents went without my brother and I. I remember they came back from the concert, told us how great it us, and said that my brother and I needed to see it.

 

We went to Dallas and saw George Strait (and friends!) at Texas Stadium.

 

It was Texas, it was in June, and it was hotter than hell out. I bought my best friend a yellow George Strait tank top as a ‘thank you’ gift for watching our family dogs while we were on that trip.

 

At that concert, I saw two grown ass drunk men head butt each other in broad daylight. I remember seeing blood all over the concrete by the bathrooms.

 

Welcome to country concerts, teenage Monica. You go to a fight and a concert breaks out.

 

Dad: “There was enough beer to go around, but there wasn’t enough water. They ran out of water, but not beer. Figure that out.”

 

Alan Jackson performed on that tour. His set was during the day, and Texas Stadium had a giant cut out in its roof. There was a section of the crowd that sat in the sun all damn day and baked.

 

We were in that section of the crowd.

 

My parents said Alan Jackson talked to the people in the sun and asked them if they were warm.

 

It was so fucking hot that day.

 

My Mom: “George is great.”

 

Also my Mom: “Country music was different back then.”

 

I agree.

 

--

 

Between both of my parents, they have about 100 vinyl records.

 

My Dad apparently built a rack for them in the basement (which I’ve not seen yet.)

 

He says the records are doing well there.

 

Mom: “You check on them?”

 

Dad: “Yeah.”

 

--

This is the first picture of Eric Church I ever took. Well...his name, anyway. Wichita 2017

A while back, my Dad gave me a Burton Cummings vinyl album, and held it side by side to an Eric Church record. Both albums are…basically giant faces of men with shaggy hair.

 

As my Dad calls my favorite artist: “What’s his name?”

 

Just wait until next month, Dad, when you go to Church for the first time. Just wait. You just won’t be the same person after that.

 

It changes you.

 

--

 

I treated interviewing my parents like a real interview, because it was a real interview. It’s an interview for a story that I’m writing.

 

(My college degree is in journalism, and I was a newspaper reporter for many years during high school, college, and the start of my professional life. I’ve done this whole interviewing and writing thing a few times in my life.)

 

As with any interview I do, I asked my final question: Is there anything else you’d like to add?

 

My Dad: “Put that in your country blog.”

 

For those of you who don’t speak my language: Eric Church has a song called Stick That in Your Country Song.

 

And that’s how I knew what the title of this post was going to be. It was handed to me on a silver platter by the man who once bought me a Brooks and Dunn CD without me even asking for it.

 

--

 

Here are some random concert and music notes from Monicaland.

 

• My first concert was Chris LeDoux around the age of 6.

 

• The first concert that I remember is Alan Jackson. I was 10. According to my Mom, I asked why all the women screamed when he “turned around and shook his butt.”

 

My Mom’s answer: “You’ll understand when you get a little older.”

 

I get it now. I understand.

 

Also, I remember standing on the bleachers on my tippy toes to see him.

 

My Dad had to work in Dallas the next day, so he caught a flight there while my Mom took my brother and I to the concert.

 

• The first vinyl I ever bought was Eric Church’s Desperate Man.

 

• The first song on vinyl I ever remember hearing is Hotel California. If I remember right, I got a CD player for Christmas that held five CDs – FIVE CDS – which was pretty groundbreaking in the 1990s.

 

It had a record player on top of it, so my parents brought some records up from the basement and played them for me.

 

I still remember that.

 

• The first CD I ever bought was The Fugees. I still love Killing Me Softly (With His Hands).

 

• The first check I wrote was also for a CD, and it was Alicia Keys.

 

--

 

I don’t know the number of concerts I’ve been to in my life, but it’s quite a few.

 

My hometown is a rodeo town. Each summer, there’s always a country concert that kicks off the rodeo.

 

When my brother and I were little, it was a really big deal. I remember my parents driving past the rodeo grounds to show us the semi trucks that brought all of the stage and sound equipment.

 

After we drove past the rodeo grounds, we would always go find the tour bus, which in a pretty small town in southwest Kansas, was always at the same hotel. The nicest hotel in town.

 

Also, back then, we didn’t have many hotels in town.

 

I remember it was a really big deal to see the tour buses in town. We got so excited because that’s where ‘whoever is playing the concert tonight’ is.

 

It was just so freaking cool.

 

Also, during my DC trip, one of my Uber drivers dumped me off in the middle of a street by two tour buses by The Anthem.

 

My life has come full circle.



--

 

I went to college in and near Wichita, Kansas. My parents came to see me quite a few times, but it was never just to see me.

 

They had tickets to whatever concert they wanted to go to, and they bought me a ticket so I could tag along.

 

We saw Gary Allan four times in Wichita this way.

 

It was also a chance for me to get out of my crappy dorm room and stay in a nice hotel for a couple of nights.

 

That’s why I liked Gary Allan a lot in college. He brought good news into my life – a concert, my parents to town, a free dinner and usually a free breakfast the day after. And maybe they topped my tank off with gas and bought me some groceries or goodies, too.

 

College Monica liked Gary Allan a lot.

 

Grown up Monica still likes him a lot, too.

 

--

 

I quizzed my parents on whether I went to Brooks and Dunn with them in 1994. They were adamant that I was there. I was nine years old, I don’t remember it, and my Dad was drunk.

 

Almost 30 years later, I am slowly starting to realize that the apple does not fall far from the tree.

 

--

 

I could talk about concerts and music forever. But as I'm typing this in Microsoft Word, I’m on page 9, so I need to wrap this up.

 

Here’s a list of concerts I’ve been to in my life. Not dates, locations or years. Just the artists. I think it’s cool to keep a list. This is in no particular order, and this started when my parents took me to a concert when I was six years old.

 

I have a theory: How you’re raised is how you live.

 

I think that’s pretty accurate.

 

My concert list:

 

• Chris LeDoux

• Brooks and Dunn

• Reba

• Alan Jackson, a few times.

• George Strait

• Eric Church…times 13. Soon to be 16. I have a problem.

• Gary Allan, times 5.

• Lee Ann Womak

• Sara Evans

• Asleep at the Wheel

• Lonestar

• Brad Paisley

• Maren Morris and her husband

• Jake Owen

• Lanco, twice

• Mike Ryan…opened for somebody. Lanco, maybe?

• CJ Solar (opened for Gary Allan)

• Justin Moore

• Jerrod Neimann, twice

• Weird Al Yankovic

• Hanson, times 6

• NSYNC, twice

• Chris Cagle

• Creed

• Gavin Degraw

• The SteelDrivers

• Thomas Rhett

• Brett Eldridge

• Brothers Osborne

• John Michael Montgomery

• STYX

• ZZ Top

• Lynyrd Skynyrd

• Mannheim Steamroller

• A bluegrass festival in college, times three, where I was introduced to John McCutcheon. I love that guy.

Pugfest, Day 1