Strawberry Wine

Country music has a very dear purpose in my life: to remind me of going to high school in Aurora. Who I was there. What I felt was important. What I loved. What I thought my life would be.

At least once during every trip home, I find myself at a country station, singing along to Faith Hill or Martina McBride. I was a full-fledged country fan between the years of 1998 and 2001. You name a Top 10 hit during that time and I could probably give you a lyric. I saw Alan Jackson, folks. So now, a few years on, I'm completely out of touch with popular country, but I catch a glimpse when no one is looking. Car rides back home. And in Austin, late night TV when Ian's fallen asleep on the couch before I get home.

I saw last night Brad Paisley has this song "Letter to Me" that's all about not thinking that high school was the best time of your life. I haven't had any doubt about that for a long time, but watching that video takes me back to when I was the one who couldn't live past Friday nights. And breaking up after a few months felt like I'd never breathe again. Front porches, tail gates, mom and pop shops. First loves, first losses. Unanswered prayers for God's sake.

The nostalgia that kind of music, with those kinds of lyrics, stirs up is why it's so popular, I think. For people who thrive on budding adulthood rather than the real thick of it, that is. For people who have not much more, "Seventeen" by Tim McGraw (which I thoroughly enjoyed when I was 17) really hits home. I embrace a token amount of nostalgia, but I've spent so many years distancing myself from that life, who I was then. I can only take so much before it feels too close to home. I start to feel the holey fabric of Rawley's red and black #12 jersey. I see the digital readout of the Subaru GL10. I smell the mill, the band room. I hear my lockers slam and Coach Heman yelling at us to hit the court. Small town high school life is rife with succulent cliches.

I guess it's no wonder, then, that there is an entire genre of music dedicated to rekindling your memory of this period of your life. When you didn't really have a clue, but you didn't really have to.

Anybody got any Deanna Carter?