The Music stays with us
September 1, 2026
When Wendy and I were first married, we lived in Reston, Virginia, just a few miles from Wolf Trap National Park for the Performing Arts. It’s a beautiful outdoor theater where no matter who is performing, whether it’s the National Symphony or Willie Nelson, the smell of marijuana wafts through the air. As odd as it is to smell weed while an orchestra is playing, I must admit that a toke or two might be the only way I could sit through two hours of classical music. I respect the genre but had my fill of it while in my high school band. Now, I gravitate (or perhaps levitate) towards Led Zeppelin or the Grateful Dead. Apologies to Chopin.
Anyway, over our nearly three decades living near Wolf Trap, we saw some of the most iconic musicians of the twentieth century, including Bob Dylan, Aretha Franklin, Ray Charles, and Steely Dan. It is a wonderful venue where we spent many an evening under, and with, the stars.
One year, Wendy and I planned to meet at Wolf Trap to see Lyle Lovett. I swung by our house first, to let the dog out, and Wendy planned to come straight from her office. When I got to theater, Wendy wasn’t there. This being the 1980s, long before we each owned cell phones, the only way to reach her was from a pay phone. For those of you in a younger age demographic, “pay phones” were devices used by our forefathers to make phone calls from large freestanding closets located wherever the general public gathered. Pay phones required money to make a local call and even more money to make a long distance call. You see, before cell phones, “long distance” was the designation for any call outside of your immediate area. A local call cost a quarter but a long distance call cost more, even several dollars. It was a complicated system but we managed to survive by always having change in our pockets.
Unfortunately, that day, I left my change at home. So I had to go to the concession stand to purchase a candy bar that I didn’t want but would be forced to eat. And by “forced to”, I mean “glad to." The change I received from the purchase left me with one quarter for the call. I reached Wendy at the office and she was still working. She told me to call back thirty minutes later when she would have a better idea of when she could leave. I hadn’t counted on that so I returned to the concession stand for yet another candy bar that I gladly didn’t want or need. Armed with another quarter, I called Wendy and she informed me that unfortunately, she was on a tight deadline and would have to miss the concert.
As an aside, Wendy and I had very different approaches to our jobs. She loved the high paying, yet high pressure, world of computer sales while I was content in my role as a hospice social worker where my salary was two pay grades below “volunteer.” Wendy was rewarded for her good work with bonuses and exotic trips while I got a tote bag for ten years of dedicated service. Tomato, tomahto.
Back to Wolf Trap. The first Lyle Lovett concert, sans Wendy, was delightful—not due to Wendy’s absence but because Lyle was such a great performer. The next year, we decided to go again so that Wendy could experience Lyle’s cool country-but-not-really-that-country vibe. During intermission, I noticed a strikingly beautiful woman a few rows in front of us. Now, I am not in the habit of mentioning to Wendy that I just spotted a particularly stunning women. It’s a strategy that has served me well. And while she might have appreciated the woman’s appearance just as much as I did, my noticing and then sharing that I noticed would eliminate any appreciation Wendy might have. That being said, in this case, I was compelled by the extraordinary-ness of this individual to say something.
It turns out that the woman in question was Julia Roberts. The next day, we read that she and Lyle were dating. A few months later, they were married—for all of twenty minutes. Unfortunately, I suspected the marriage was destined to fail. They were the epitome of the odd couple. She was an attractive and hugely successful Hollywood star and he was a quirky looking, honky-tonk musician with a pile of wild hair on top of his head. While the rock-star-supermodel phenomenon is a real thing, very few of these relationships seem to last. Well, except for Wendy and me. But we’re clearly the rock-star-supermodel exception.
If you’re not familiar with Lyle Lovett’s music, it is a unique combination of country, blues, jazz, and swing with a bit of dry humor thrown in for good measure. That’s what I love about his music. The musicians are quite amazing yet the lyrics and performances are down to earth and fun. As an example, here is one of my favorite lines from one of Lyle’s most popular song, “She’s No Lady”:
The preacher asked her
And she said I do.
The preacher asked me
And she said yes he does too.
And the preacher said
I pronounce you 99 to life
Son, she's no lady, she's your wife.
Classic Lyle Lovett.
Fast forward nearly forty years and Wendy and I were once again at one of Lyle’s concerts at the Paramount Theater in Charlottesville, VA. Oddly, I found myself feeling mixed emotions. For one, I was in musical nirvana. I was completely immersed in the tunes that I remembered from so many years before and was fully present throughout the entire concert. Sometimes, when attending a performance, I’ll get distracted or bored, especially when a musician says,“we’d like to play a song from our new album”. I want to hear the classics and Lyle Lovett delivered his.
The second emotion I felt was melancholy. The sadness came from the realization that Lyle Lovett, whose voice seems to be deteriorating a bit, will never be as good as he was in the prime of his career. It made me think of the trajectory of our own lives. One day, Lyle will stop performing—both as a musician and eventually, in life. And that’s an inevitability for each of us. We will all stop performing. Most recently, the death of Dolly Parton brought this reality home.
Strangely, however, I left the Lyle Lovett concert in an upbeat mood. I think it was because I was living in a real-life moment. I experienced a magical concert while at the same time, I became aware of the impermanence of all things. This intertwining of sadness and joy felt like a completed equation in my soul.
I think we sometimes forget that life is not about just seeking happiness. Nor should it be a state of continual sadness. To truly embody the depth of living, we must experience both the ups and downs that we encounter in our journey. That’s a richness that, in musical terms, would be considered a fantastic score.
As Wendy and I rode home from the concert, we played music from Lyle Lovett’s original albums. It was a beautiful way to round out the evening and it reminded us that even though Lyle may one day stop performing, his music will always be there. We can enjoy it over and over until, well, we also stop performing.
That’s an encore I can appreciate.