Well, my obsession with Facebook has finally paid off!  Last week, I was just checking on my account and Train’s post showed up on my mini-feed.  They were coming to Nashville to tape a CMT Crossroads show with Martina McBride, and had 10 sets of tickets to give away.  All you had to do was comment on the post.  So I did two things that I never do…enter contests (because I NEVER win), and comment on a public figure’s post (because I’m afraid I’ll get zillions of notifications of other posts after mine.  I just told them that we had tickets to see them in Birmingham last April, the first day of the Nashville Flood, and literally couldn’t get out of Nashville because I-65 was covered with water, and how winning those tickets would be a great consolation prize.  I learned two things…1.  I didn’t get notifications about the zillions of other comments on the post and 2.  Mentioning the Nashville Flood got the sympathy vote, I guess, because we won!

I had a bit of a dilemma, because H is a huge fan, and I would have loved for her to go see them, but I didn’t want to give up my seat.  I mean, I do sacrifice a lot of things for my daughter, but come on-it’s TRAIN!  I get goosebumps just seeing and hearing Pat Monahan sing.  He sings with everything he has, and it shows.  The lyrics of his songs are absolutely beautiful…not just the overplayed big commercial hits, but the obscure songs that no one knows.

Needless to say, I get lost in the music and the words and Pat Monahan’s voice whenever I see them.  J offered to let me take H instead of him, but she gracefully bowed out so it’s going to be a date night for us.  I don’t know Martina’s music, but I heard her sing with Reba McEntire at a Diva fundraiser for Oasis one year, and she’s got a mighty powerful voice for a little bitty thing, so it should be a great show.  I have no idea what to expect,  how many songs they will sing, if we get to sit down (it’s at Rocketown, which doesn’t usually have seating for concerts), but I’ll keep you posted.

We’re finishing up our third week at our little mountain house. Even being in this remote little community, bad news finds us. As if the loss of 70’s pop culture icons Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson wasn’t enough, I sat down to catch up on facebook and got the heartbreaking news that Steve McNair had been shot and killed.

I physically felt a burning in my heart, because Steve was such a hero to my hometown. Both on and off the field, he was a leader, a mentor, and a philanthropist. But perhaps more than the tragic loss of a home town hero, is the disappointment surrounding the details of his death. The facts are slowly being presented, but instead of focusing on his personal life, I want to remember him as a class act, both on and off the field.

Back in 2000, the year after McNair led the Titans to their first super bowl, which we were fortunate to be able to attend, H was 7 years old. She was participating that season as a “Jr. Titans Cheerleader”, and was a huge fan of McNair. We were eating at a local restaurant, and I noticed that he was eating at the bar. H wanted to go talk to him. At first, both J and I didn’t want to bother him, but we eventually relented, cautioning H that he might not want to talk. She walked up to him and tapped him on the leg. He turned around, and seeing her, got down off his seat, and then down on one knee so he could talk to her at her level! She told him he was her favorite player and that she was a Jr. Titans Cheerleader. He told her he was very impressed, and thanked her for her support. She was smiling ear to ear when she came back to our table. Her first experience with a ‘celebrity’ could have been a disappointing one, but Steve McNair was a gentleman and we will always remember that, not the sad details that may emerge surrounding his death.

Farrah Fawcett was the ultimate poster girl. I wanted the red bathing suit and I wanted my hair to look like hers. I bought my first set of hot rollers, and asked my hairstylist to cut my hair in “feathers”, just like hers! On me, the hairstyle looked more like an afro, but it was something that I (and all my friends) strived for.

I have so many memories of Michael Jackson…all the way back to “A,B,C”, the “Thriller” debut on MTV, seeing him perform the moonwalk the first time, running around the UT campus with “Billie Jean” on my cassette walkman, and the sad photographic evidence of his morphing into an unrecognizable character as symptoms of a man with obvious issues surrounding his identity. When you see side by side photos of him as a child next to him as an adult, it’s even more shocking.

But regardless of whatever inner turmoil Michael had, he left a legacy. Hearing the multitude of voices singing, “We are the world” still fills me with hope…and even though the purpose of the song was to raise awareness and funds for famine in Ethiopia, it reflects an image of musicians banding together for social change, and the possibilities of that are inspiring.

If anything can be taken from the events of the last couple of weeks, it is that life is precious, and uncertain. Three lives were taken from this world too soon, but their contributions and influence will last forever.

I used to be in sales. So I had a lot of practice making small talk with people I didn’t know. I’m actually pretty good at it. I can go to a party with a bunch of strangers and usually meet a few people and converse without totally sticking my foot in my mouth or saying something stupid.

But introduce me to a celebrity and I become a stuttering, bumbling, embarrassing mess.

Living in Nashville, I actually do cross paths with a few singers, songwriters, NFL football players, etc. When we have kids that go to the same school, or play on the same basketball team, I can usually have a regular conversation, and use real words and everything. But put me somewhere where I don’t expect to see them, and I can’t even speak English.

A few years ago, Eddie George (ex-Titan’s running back and gorgeous specimen of a man/athlete) was on an airplane with us, flying to LA. Even though we’d never met, J’s trainer also taught Eddie yoga, so J felt like he knew him. J pointed him out to me and before I could register that he was sitting right in front of us, J walked over and shook his hand. He introduced himself, said he was a big fan, shared yoga stories, and pointed at me, introduced me as a huge fan. I reached over to shake his hand, opened my mouth and said, “Nahaiel kssld ijflk djsl”. Eddie nodded like he totally understood what I was saying and was very nice. That kind of thing happens to me a lot.

So yesterday, I went to yoga, and when I got there I realized it was a different teacher. I almost left, but then thought, “What the heck, I’m already here.” So I nabbed the only space left in the back row next to an empty mat. Class started and a couple of women snuck in to the empty mats on my left. I glanced over to see if it was someone I knew, and it was Nicole Kidman! She and Keith just bought a big house in a development close by, and I’ve heard people say they’ve seen her at Starbucks or whole foods, but I would never have expected to see her in a yoga class. Seems like she’d want to have someone come over and privately teach her in her home. So I’m trying to act all cool, like I see her everyday. I tried not to look at her, which is very difficult, because she’s so tall and beautiful, with this luminous skin that’s hard to believe. I don’t know how far along her pregnancy is, but it’s hard to even tell that she has a little bump. I spent more time trying to keep my eyes straight ahead, so that I wouldn’t make her feel uncomfortable by looking at her, than I did thinking about the yoga class. She stayed for the whole class, and did almost every pose (modifying for the baby). I made it through the class without getting caught sneaking a glance, didn’t try to talk to her (what a disaster that would have been), and left before she did.

She’s probably wondering who the stuck up weird woman was next to her.

To protect her privacy I can’t show her face, but my beautiful niece got to meet her heroes at Miley Cyrus’ birthday party concert/after party. She really likes Joe. After seeing this picture, I can see why!

And I don’t know about you, but I think Billy Ray looks so much better without the Mullet!

I’ve got to talk about Britney Spears. In a way, I should thank her. Her behavior has been a wonderful lesson for H about how poor decisions can be quite destructive. Hannah was 7-8 when we first started listening and watching Britney. “Hit me baby”, and “oops, I did it again” were catchy and cute and Britney had throngs of little girls who worshipped the ground she walked on. Even though her weak little voice was obviously dubbed and edited and boosted in a sound booth, she was a good dancer and the girls loved her. The problem was, she was growing up in the public eye, without much guidance it seemed. Her music began it’s evolution to more sexual connotations, she started wearing fewer clothes, and in her attempts to “grow up”, she grew away from the huge fan base she had established. H and her friends just stopped listening. They felt more comfortable with singers like Hilary Duff and Christina Aguilera, and actresses like Dakota Fanning…girls who acted their age.

I’ve been intrigued with the stories about Britney, with kind of a train-wreck fixation. I do feel bad for this girl. She has a life that to some would seem full of opportunity. She has enough money not to have to worry about financial matters, but who does she have in her life that is there because they really care about her? She’s pushed her parents away, and the hangers-on who are at her side are paid to be there. When her advisors give her advice that she doesn’t like, she fires them. She is a lost soul, a little girl who skipped a vital part of growing up, when she could have learned lessons and grown to be an adult who can make solid decisions.

Maybe someone, somewhere will be able to break through her stubbornness, and let her see what her destructive behavior is doing to her, both personally and professionally. Her independent nature and energy can perhaps be channelled and she can find herself.