Almost a year ago, I traveled to Sintra, Portugal with two friends, who have both since moved back to America. On that trip, we sampled cherry port in chocolate shot glasses, viewed castles and gardens straight out of storybooks, and, since we had six hours, talked.
And of course, listened to lots of music. My taste in music is less highbrow than my husband, who prefers bands fronted by moody Norseman. A twenty minute ode to street graffiti, replete with feedback and possibly a saw used as an instrument? It speaks to him.
Meanwhile, I’ve been known to enjoy the lyrical stylings of a certain will.i.am without much embarrassment. Lyrics like,” Fill up my cup/mozoltov”…well, they inspire.
On that same fateful trip to Portugal, one of my friends, who is partial to the country music, introduced me to the LoCash Cowboys (they have since changed their name to simply, LoCash). They had a song that frankly, is a excellent personal mantra for a successful life. I would quote the entire thing, but that would make the rest of my writings look bad, and I have too much pride for that.
Hey, Hey Hey by the LoCash Cowboys
Let’s talk about mud, let’s talk about trucks
Let’s talk about shotguns, white tail deer, and geese, and ducks
Let’s talk about lakes, let’s talk about boats
Let’s talk about catfish, big mouth bass, and fishing poles[Hook:]
Hey, hey, hey I’m from the country
Hey, hey, hey out in the sticks
Hey, hey, hey my redneck baby loves me
And my music sounds like this
This poetry speaks to me as I reflect on our recent trip to Wisconsin, because we basically checked these lyrics off like a list. There was mud near the various farms/family compounds we visited. We rode in many a truck, most with duelies and diesel, natch. I shot not just a shotgun, but a muzzle loader. We saw deer, geese and ducks. I learned that geese are also referred to as “sky carp.” Lakes abounded, one for camping, one for swimming, and a few for, as the next lines mention, boats and fishing poles.
Apparently there is an entire country song strictly about Pontoon Boats. Look it up.
As for the hook? Well, I’m not from the country. I’m from the Arizona suburbs. But I married a man who has the best family in the world, most of whom still live in Northern Wisconsin. Kind, good people who make their own maple syrup, garden, own horses, and work hard. And while a few of them scoff at the idea of me driving a Bobcat, they love me anyway.
I’ve been back in Spain for four days, and while Wisconsin felt like home, so does mi pueblo. How can I be comfortable in such different places? How do my children so effortlessly shift from riding the four-wheeler to jabbering in Spanish in the calles?
We are blessed. Lucky. Adaptable? I don’t know, but I’m grateful.
I wish I could tie this all together just so with a Spanish lyric, but the only song I know well enough is Bailando, which is mostly about love and lust, and well, dancing. Doesn’t quite set the right tone.
So, instead, I will cave to my lowbrow (LoCash?) musical leanings, and quote a song that basically explains life here, too.
It might seem crazy what I’m about to say
Sunshine she’s here, you can take a break
I’m a hot air balloon that could go to space
With the air, like I don’t care baby by the way