Side By Side and Heart to Heart

article by MEREDITH MCKINNIE

Friday afternoon my girlfriend sped into the driveway and hopped out of the car with a magnanimous “Whoop!” We were hitting the road, headed to Fort Worth for the Judds Final Tour. My mother pulled in shortly after, and we loaded her bags into the Ford Explorer, stuffed to the brim for a 48-hour trip. My friend’s mother couldn’t make the trip, so it was just us three headed to stay with my husband’s parents in Texas for the concert the following evening. Mom is a fervent reader, often starting and finishing a book on a long car ride (We joke that she prefers her characters to us.) So, my friend and I had the radio to ourselves, the Judds’ music on repeat for the last few hours of the trip. We laughed. We cried. We seized those soul-filling moments of time spent with a best friend absent the daily distractions. 

The next morning while Mom and my mother-in-law caught up, I took my friend to all my favorite Fort Worth hot spots. After a brief nap that afternoon, we loaded up in the car and headed to Dickies Arena. As I mentioned in last month’s article, Mom is no concert goer. She has mentioned enjoying live music in her youth but purchasing a ticket and traveling to see a show – no. My husband’s mother goes frequently since she lives so close to a popular tour spot, and my friend follows all the country singers on the road. This trip, at least for me, was about Mom. I wasn’t sure how she would react to tons of people in a loud space, but I was anxious to find out. 

The relatively new venue is gorgeous, reminiscent of an old opera house with carpeted spiral staircases leading to the second level where we perched for the show. Martina McBride opened the show, and Mom was glued to the action down below. I was sitting to her right, further away from the stage. I eyed her responses, looking for signs of joy. I could see she was enamored, rarely looking away from Martina. Before Wynonna’s entrance, we scurried to the bathroom – at the same time everyone else did too. The line wrapped through the halls. A funny gentleman came out of the men’s bathroom (with no line) and started swinging his arms, encouraging the women to use the vacant stalls. My friend and I leaped, though Mom resisted. When we took off, she reluctantly followed, embarrassed by our willingness to break social norms. 

A few minutes later, my husband’s mother pointed out the security team circling the tiny stage toward the back of the venue. She predicted Wynonna would pop out there soon, and she did. Her euphonious voice echoed throughout the venue, seemingly wrapping itself around all of us and holding us tight. She shortly made her way through the crowd to the main stage, shaking fans’ hands along the way. She established a personal connection with the audience on that walk, thanking us for showing up for her in Naomi’s absence. She carried her mother on her shoulders that night, bellowing every song as if her mother was standing beside her. Throughout the two hours, Mom and I sat transfixed, cheering when it was appropriate and wiping tears when the lyrics moved us. I couldn’t help but be acutely aware of sitting next to my own mother while Wynonna entertained the crowd without hers. There was nowhere else I’d have rather been at that moment. I thought about the joy of being able to share her talent with an adoring crowd, compounded by the price of fame. I thought about the sacrifice of feeling each of those lyrics, especially as videos of her mother played behind her as she sang. 

That evening and the next day, we were still high from the experience, grateful to have witnessed such a show among people who shared a love of the music. We felt fully at peace in that arena among strangers. Mom went on about how much she enjoyed the show; I knew it was money well spent. Dad called me a few days later, insisting Mom loved the trip and thanking me for taking her. We had the kind of time that makes one crave more of the same. I’m trying to seize more of those opportunities while I still can. Life goes so fast, and we don’t want to miss it.