I pull the flour from the cabinet. Retrieve eggs, milk, blueberries. Chocolate chips, because they are my son’s favorite. Bacon sizzles on the griddle. I put the water on for tea. The house is quiet. My family still slumbers, weary from work and school on this Saturday morning. I ask Alexa to put on some music. My predictable choice: Nanci Griffith.
When I am going through challenging times, or just need to ponder a dilemma or decision, this is my weekend routine. Nanci’s music is the soundtrack. Her sound is always calming for me – a comfort and solace, especially during the pandemic.
Her whispy voice, sassy Texas-feminist lyrics, and folksy country sound has been a part of my life since my early 20s. I know every word to just about every song. Each one has a gem, the turn of phrase that I wait for in each listen, like this one from “Listen to the radio.”
“I left a handsome two steppin’ good ole boy in Tennessee
Now, he’s sittin’ on the sofa, lookin’ for his supper, wonderin’ what’s become of me
I’ve got a double-o-eighteen Martin guitar in the back seat of the car
Hey, I’m leaving Mississippi, with the radio on …”
Boston, mid-1990s: Nanci was in concert on the waterfront on a summer night. The wind off the harbor tossed her hair and made her white dress flutter on stage. A consummate storyteller, she shared that she had gotten purple cowboy boots for her 40th birthday. When I was 27 and listening to her voice next to my new husband of two years, 40 seemed a lifetime away. I resolved, too, to bring purple cowboy boots into my life when I was 40.
I live in Maine now. Several years ago, my friend and I went on a weeknight to hear Nanci do a show in Ogunquit. Very intimate, small crowd, more of a coffee house setting – but the same sweet-salty troubadour sharing the power of small moments and big loves. Her politics were still woven into her melodies, and I took home a Texas-shaped sticker that read “Blue Girl in a Red State.”
Nanci Griffith died just recently at the age of 68. Not much has been said yet about the circumstances of her death. I know that she battled cancer. Whatever the details, it was too soon.
The day that she passed away, I drove to Cape Cod to meet my family for a week of vacation. Along the way, I listened to a constant spool of Nanci Griffith songs. As I crossed the Sagamore Bridge, I had tears streaming down my face, and the wind off the water rushed in through the open window.
I am well past 40 without those purple boots in my closet, but with Nanci’s music on the radio, there is still time.
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