There is something going on in our family that I haven’t wanted to talk about. It’s been very traumatic for me and I’ve had a hard time dealing with it. But I need to be upfront. I need to get this out in the open.
My husband likes country music.
You guys, I’m from Detroit. I never met anyone who listened to country until I went to college. I always thought that the people who like it are the countriest of bumpkins. (I know this isn’t really true because the hickest people I’ve ever known all liked Heavy Metal.) It was the kind of music that everybody made fun of when I was growing up; the musical equivalent of living in a trailer. And now my husband likes it. Not just likes it but buys it! He even goes to concerts. Since I can’t bring myself to spend a lot of money on music I don’t care for, he has been taking India to concerts with him. And now she likes it! (That plan really backfired on me.) Next think you know he’s going to chew tobacco and buy a pick-up truck.
Oh wait, he did buy a pick-up truck. I thought he was just being practical.
The funny thing is that I imagine that I am embracing the “country lifestyle”. I mean, we live in Texas! By choice! And we love it! But there’s only so far I can go. You can take the girl out of Detroit, but you can’t take Detroit out of the girl, I guess. Maybe I like The Country the way it’s portrayed in movies. All the houses are darling and have pies in the windows and every town has a cute little main street. There is no mention of WalMart, double wides, or people wearing camo with every outfit.
Mister explained why he likes country music. “The lyrics are uplifting. The songs are about things I identify with like being a good person and having a family.” And then he played me some song about a dad whose little boys prays because he sees his dad praying. And it made me cry.