Since leaving Nashville, I've realized how much I've taken my city for granted. I grew up around amazing musicians, a culture of politeness, sweet tea, and good 'ole boys.
But in high school I thought these good 'ole boys, or "rednecks", were annoying with their loud trucks and confederate flags raised proud. They blasted their tapes of, not Cash or Wagner, but George Strait and Kenny Chesney. Post 1994 (at least in my middle school mind), I felt as though country music lost its roots, as if the sons and daughters of bluegrass lost their hillside edge and welcomed in all those who were seeking. The music became accessible and too accessible for this 12-year-old's taste.
But not many people know I grew up on this stuff. Unfortunately, I could have been caught falling asleep to CMT's Dance Club: Live at the Ryman. I do hate to admit it, but I was the girl who really did think true love could happen at 14 like John Micheal Montgomery told her. (Who by the way I met at Vince Gill's golf tournament when I worked as a cart girl at the Golf Club of Tennessee - dream come true). I wanted to someday be line dancing with the greats on that wood floor.
I had the joy of re-visiting some of those roots with weekend with a few great gals.
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