It's A Pina Colada Time of Year!

At Garth Brooks’ Ascend show the other night, he performed one of my favorites of his hits – “Two Pina Coladas.”

Danged if it wasn’t symbolic.

If you enter into a Red Lobster sometime over the next few days, the chances of seeing me sipping on that tropical beverage are better than say, the third week in July.

For starters, I love tropical drinks such as that, or the Bahama Mama, or anything with Pineapple.(Yes, I know you are probably thinking I am a lightweight. I am. I make no bones about it. But, that’s me.)

But, it’s also personal. I guess you could call the next few days as what I observe as “Mama Week.” As I write this on October 26, it makes eleven years since my Mother passed away. Coming up on Sunday, it would have been her birthday. As a young child, I remember going to Red Lobster frequently with my parents, and my mother would always order a Pina Colada. I remember she always gave me the cute little red lobster tail that they poked in the pineapple on the straw.

You’re probably thinking that I am going to get overly sentimental with this blog post. I’m not. I’ve been there and done that. I think in the past eleven years, my mother would be proud of me – more than not. I’m sure there are things that she wished I would have done different. But, overall, I don’t think so. At least I hope.

Basically, I felt like I needed to write something about this week. It used to be one of great sadness for me. But, as time goes by – as many said it would – you put the good memories in a higher place, and you don’t focus on the bad. To me, the last week of October used to be one that I dreaded, or at the very least – looked at with great sadness. Not anymore. Now, it’s a time of celebration concerning someone who was one of my biggest supporters.

Celebration. I like that term a lot better. So, bring me two Pina Coladas this week. It’s that time of the year!

The Assignment I Didn't Like.....But I'm Glad I Got!

Reflecting….on a rainy afternoon….Somewhere between here – Dickson, I guess you would say….and there…Fairview, where I am broadcasting football tonight. I am kind of in a nostalgic mood this afternoon. Though I live and work in Centerville, I still conduct most of my business in Dickson, and still have a lot of friends there. I try not to think about there too much, as at times, it feels my name has been erased from the timeline there.

But, that’s neither here nor there. I am reflecting because this afternoon, I am reminded why I got into the profession I am in. No, this isn’t going to be a story about me listening to Keith Bilbrey on WSM as a kid, and being inspired – LOL, I think by this point, he knows that story. In fact, it has nothing to do with radio. All told, unless I am filling in, I do two hours of music-oriented radio a week now, and it’s been that way for seven years. Don’t get me wrong. I still love it, and consider myself blessed to work for an owner like Steve Turner – who understands radio – and more importantly, those who work in it.

Rather, this is a look into the other side of what I do – writing. Upon doing research for something a few months ago, I figured out that I have had at least 1,300 articles published by Billboard Magazine or the website – alone. That’s not to mention Sounds Like Nashville, which has graciously accepted as much work as I can turn out, and the other sites, newspapers, and blogs I have written for. A journalist friend of mine actually keeps track of how many articles he has done. I don’t know, I’d rather add to the story than stop and contemplate it.

Whatever possessed me to become a writer? That’s a question I have asked myself many times. As a profession, journalism makes radio look as steady as being a doctor. At heart, I love telling peoples’ stories, informing them as to why I think the story, the album, the tour, the person, etc, is important. If I am telling the truth, it wasn’t until 2001 that I began to think about it more realistically…..and even then, it was as a way to set myself apart from the 2200 non-reporting (to Billboard or as it was then, R&R) stations. Self-promotion, I guess you could call it – a wise old fellow by the name of Medley once said ‘Those who doesn’t toot their own horn doesn’t get their horn tooteth.’ He was right.

But, what made me think I could write – or that I had anything to say? I remembered that while in High School English class, our teacher made us keep journals. We had assignments that we would write about at times, then other days, we would (a word that I had no idea how much it would describe me)….freelance, and write about whatever. I still remember the subjects I would write about…..Music, Television,…and Girls….(there may have been one that I wrote about more than others, but I was a teenager, after all!)  For some reason, I got higher grades on my journal than anything I did in class. Maybe she was generous, I don’t know. But, I remembered how much I loved that experience. The teacher’s name was Emma Hall. I really didn’t know her until High School, though her parents watched me quite a bit growing up at Burns.

I also had Mrs. Hall for Sociology class as a Senior, but nothing I did in school prepared me for life – and career – as that journal. I have thought about transferring some of my posts to computer, but I don’t know if anyone would find it that interesting….and some woman’s husband might come after me for having a crush on his wife back then! But, it was learning how to write, to elaborate – or sometimes how not to, that set me on a trek that I am very grateful for.

A few months ago, at our ‘Boys’ Club’ lunch at Cracker Barrel, Mrs. Hall came up and was very complimentary of the work that I have done in my life. That meant a lot, coming from her. I didn’t realize at the time, that Cancer – that #$%^ of a word – was in the midst of another battle with her. She won it twenty years ago, and Tuesday morning, she won it again. The results are the only thing that was different.

They say that we, as human beings, are on a collision course. With what, I don’t exactly profess to know. But, I tend to think that destiny tends to provide our roadmap. I was sure when I was twelve years old that I was going to be in radio. There was no other option. But, writing was another story. At times, I still feel like the kid who wandered in the back door – and Holly and Robert know I’m there, but I try to stay as silent as I can. But, whatever I have done in that realm, you first have to be inspired to believe in yourself.

Miss Emma, Thank you for that belief….and inspiration.