Yesterday evening, as I was in the restroom at Cracker Barrel, I found myself remembering. (Yes, I know it’s an odd place to do that.)
I walked in there and could hear the atmospheric music the restaurant was playing. If you’re familiar with Cracker Barrel, you know the music. 100% Country. All the time.
Now I am not a fan of Country music. I have a couple CDs if some artists. But those tend to be the more Pop-ish Country artists out there. Not your Country Country artists. Those I really don’t like.
But Grandma and Grandpa…They LOVED country music. I mean LOVED it. They used to watch CMT non-stop, back when it actually had some good country programs on there. Dolly Parton….Loretta Lynn….Tanya Tucker….Barbara Mandrell…Reba McIntyer….Those were their favorites. Grandma talked about them as if they were her best friends. They occasionally went to a concert when I was little. And later, my aunt and uncle took them to the Country acts that came to the county fair. I know they saw Alabama, Alan Jackson, and a few other people that way.
Since my grandparents died, I haven’t thought much about Country music. I just don’t listen to it. But yesterday evening, I found myself in the restroom, listening to that music, and thinking about the pictures of Grandma and Grandpa, dressed in their western-style shirts and their his/hers cowboy hats, waiting for that Dolly Parton concert to start. And suddenly, I was missing them all over again. But with a smile.
(They even had parakeets named Burt and Dolly…Burt Reynolds and Dolly Parton….)