Forgiving Dwight Yoakam

Have you ever gotten really pissed off at a musician, a band, or maybe a celebrity? You know, someone you've never met but that you've made such an integral part of your life that you can't imagine a world without?

Well, I have.

And it's a strange dilemna that most people would probably find ridiculous.

Anybody that has known me for more than a minute knows of my long time love affair with Dwight Yoakam. He literally saved my neck on September 8th, 2001. But that's a story for another time.

One 2003 night in Georgia I came to the realization that Dwight Yoakam, that is the individual person that holds the name, wasn't really the "Dwight Yoakam" that I knew and loved.

The "Dwight Yoakam" that I had come to know and love was Pete Anderson, his long time guitarist and record producer.

"Dwight Yoakam" was watching Hee Haw with my (now deceased) daddy in the late 1980's and being intrigued by an up and coming artist who was nothing if not a refreshing, delightful blend of Elvis and Buck Owens.

"Dwight Yoakam" was composer of the album "If there Was A Way," which became the soundtrack for a romantic relationship that spanned over four years of my life, and with someone who remains one of my best friends nearly 20 years later.

"Dwight Yoakam" was the opportunity to chide my friend Cindy, who was equally excited about seeing a newcomer named Tim McGraw open up for DY in the early 1990's.

"Dwight Yoakam" was the delightful surprise I found in the opening credits of the movie Slingblade, on a night my then boyfriend refused to accompany me to the theater. A night which, coincidentally, found me sitting behind the aforementioned ex, with whom I was estranged at the time, and with whom I shared solitary bits of laughter throughout that night's screening.

"Dwight Yoakam" was the reason for many roadtrips and overdue get togethers with my best friend, Mary, who is no longer in my life. It gave us an "excuse" to meet up in Atlanta, Winston-Salem, Charleston and, of course, Danville, Virginia, all of those years we were separated by so many miles.

I'll tell you how Dwight Yoakam betrayed me another time. But tonight, as I struggle with a personal dilemna, I'm gonna listen to an album that is calling to me from its place on the bookshelf. That album is "A Long Way Home." And I'm gonna say a quick prayer of thanksgiving for the comfort it's providing me tonight and so many other times. And I'm gonna forgive Dwight Yoakam for letting me down that night in Georgia.