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Nostalgia, Sadness, Regret and Joy - an emotional journey through an Eagles concert.

I've always wanted to see the Eagles in concert. They are my favorite band. I don't know why, other than their music is fun, meaningful, sing-able, and it reminds me of my upbringing. My husband knows I've always wanted to see them in concert, and it flashed up on his phone that they were coming to Louisville. In a leap of faith, he bought tickets, not even knowing if I could go given the uncertainty at the time around my business travel schedule for May. Luckily, it worked out, and we went this week to see them in concert! Bucket list item for this gal and points scored for the hubs!



A really weird thing happens every time I go to a good concert, or hear a great live band. It happened when I went to see Paul McCartney, it happened at Phil Collins, and the Eagles concert was no different. I start to feel sad as I listen to great music and see my favorite performers in their element. Why? Well, my brain goes down the same path every time. For those of you who don't know, my dad is a professional musician. A really, really talented one. I inherited his musical genes, and over the years I played piano, flute and was in an acapella group with him and some friends. I love music. I've always loved music. I was a dang good piano and flute player, if I do say so. I'm a good singer when I'm actively rehearsing. I'm no Whitney Houston, but I have an ear, I can harmonize, and I have a decent voice. Yet, I chose a different path.


It started when I chose cheerleading over marching band. My dad never tried to persuade me to choose marching band instead, despite the fact he was the drum major in high school. It was a hard decision for me, but I went with the "popular" choice. I don't necessarily regret it, yet I always wonder if my path would have been different had I stuck with band.


Despite my professional success, I always feel like there's something "missing." I also find myself wondering if way down deep, my dad is disappointed I didn't pursue music. He once told me that I never lacked the talent, "only the work ethic." He probably doesn't remember saying that to me, but boy do I remember it. I think what he meant was, "it wasn't important enough to you for you to throw every ounce of yourself into it," which is what you have to do to be good at any form of art. I say that as anyone who knows me knows work ethic, when using the word as defined, is not a challenge for me. Sometimes I wish I had less of it, to be honest.


Anyway, I guess we all have "what if" stories. And sure, it's never too late to pick back up an instrument, or relearn how to play piano. I know I could do it. I got my keyboard out at the beginning of the year and sat down and taught myself part of a song by listening to it on a recording, mostly, with a glance at the notes every now and then (ugh - sight reading sucks). What I learned was, my brain doesn't have the capacity, nor do I have the energy, at this particular stage of life to relearn anything. I'm acclimating to the biggest job in my career, raising teenagers/young adults, and suffering brain fog from menopause. Aint' much stickin' around up there these days in the ole noggin. That doesn't mean I won't go back and try again. Yet, writing is something I don't have to relearn how to do. It's a way to do something I love to do without having to stress out about how to do it. So, I'll stick with boring people to death with my innermost thoughts for now, and go back to music when and if it is the right time.


Until then, I'll remember fondly how music has been part of my life since literally my infancy, and the blessings I have in the form of musicians who are family members, with some of them being in my life for 45 of my 48 years of life. The concert was great. I cried like a baby when they played "Desperado" as one of those musical family members, who I lovingly refer to as "my uncle Rod," sang it like no one else could, and we lost him earlier this year. I miss him - and so does the rest of our musical family, yet I am so blessed to have had him as part of my life.


Every time I go to a concert and these thoughts come up, I always think, "I need to write about this," so this time I did. Thanks for reading. ❤





The band, Showboat. We traveled in the big red van, and the band members and their wives/girlfriends took turns babysitting me. My "Uncle Rod" is the big guy behind me. My dad and sweet mom, (boy do I miss you, Mom) are the two in the middle.






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Sharlene Allnutt
Sharlene Allnutt
May 18, 2022

Very cool, Steph. Not sure why our parents words resonate so harshly, good or bad, but they do. I think every parent wants their children to inherit some of their passions, talents, etc. However, sometimes as the parent, myself included, the meaning behind what we say can be lost in our words. I’m certain your dad is so proud of you. You and I both know your work ethic is over the top… I mean who works until midnight and gets up at 5a?!?! Glad the concert was so amazing. Music speaks directly to the heart, generating all the “feels.” Feel good because you are good, despite choosing different paths. ♥️

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