I saw Lyle Lovett at the Majestic Theatre, downtown San Antonio. He was swapping songs with John Hiatt, both with nothing more than guitars, although, Hiatt did break out a harmonica on a song or two.
Swapping tales and songs, couple of Lyle Lovett songs are San Antonio favorites, sure.
The Majestic with historical and stately elegance, sure, great place for such a show.
Sure, Lyle Lovett is at the end of the boomer generation. Makes his take on a historical, familial note was poignant.
“My parents worked hard so I could go to school (Texas A&M, music and journalism, Robert Earl Keen, etc.) so I could work at making things up. To them, making things up isn’t a real job.”
Have I heard that before? Yes. Back, before college, I scored higher in math than English. Read enough of my work, that’s both understandable and clearly evident.
By the grace of the planets, I fall in the generation that is between generations, neither Boomer or X-er. So, to me, making things up is a real job. Always has been. I am an artist. I prefer the term writer. “What do you write?” I’m best known for my horoscopes. Casual, relaxed, offhanded and eerily accurate at times.
My warning is that at least once a month, I’m allowed to be wrong. Horrifically incorrect.
Shrug. Never claimed otherwise.
Lyle mentioned it from the stage, about making things up was not considered a real job, but apparently, it can be. He has a long, star-studded career. And a girl in San Antonio. Who he sings about.
I recall going through some of my father’s personal correspondence. He was a bit of pack rat like that. I vividly recall the scorn and derisive dismissal at my career choice. Hint: I didn’t choose it, it fell in my lap. Same year, near the same time, there was a note he mailed to his sister, printed out a blog post of mine and wrote on it, “I’m proud of that boy.”
The correspondence had been returned with a box of her papers after she passed. Then I stumbled across it a few years later, after my father passed. I’ll guess the boxes are still in the garage in Dallas.
However, I still carry around that idea, making stuff up isn’t a real job.
Comments on this entry are closed.
eerily accurate? you bet!
It’s nice that he wrote that comment about being proud of you. As an outspoken, independent-minded, self-reliant Sag, my mother always thought I wasn’t “feminine” enough (i.e., timid, subservient, dependent). Though I’ve put away the pain of that assessment, I can remember it clearly. Parents must find us a bit difficult to deal with, until (or if) they can accept us as adults.