Well, it was a fun run!
Here’s how the weekend went:
Karen and I arrived in Jackson, Tennessee, on Friday evening in time to eat supper at Los Portales with David, Pam, B & B, Mom, Bill Baldy, and little Gary Roeder (Kevin and Holly’s son). I do believe that I must eat Mexican food 3 – 5 times a week in order to function correctly!
We left and enjoyed a stroll at Wal-Mart and a reminiscent drive through Henderson talking about houses we’d either lived in or liked. At the Lynch home we enjoyed cookies and home movies, and then drove to Casey and April’s to say hello.
When we woke on Saturday, I had no idea that we had slept until almost 10 a.m.! The bed was so comfortable, the room was dark because it was on the western side of the house, and it was slightly overcast. I think we could have slept longer!
After morning hugs and hellos I received a peculiar admonition from Mom: “When you see the car, son, remember that this is a ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ event for us, too.”
With eyebrows raised I stepped to the storm-door and beheld a beautifully vandalized mini-van. “Beale Street or Bust!”, “Alabama Idol on Board!”, and “I Love Joey” are the only phrases I can remember that were written on the windows in window-paint white though there were a few more. I knew then the hopes I’d had of keeping this thing low-key were A.W.O.L. and most likely would not return.
Pam had stayed up the night before making a wonderful breakfast casserole and a cheese dish that begged you to have seconds. Karen and I enjoyed the meal while reading the large poster board signs boasting that I was my family’s American Idol and how much they loved me. It was all so overwhelming.
Before we loaded up in the “limo’” (Pam’s van), Candice, Thomas, April, Casey, Colby, and Gabby all stopped by to wish me luck and pass out hugs and encouragement. I know we can’t afford it right now, nor do we have the time, but seeing all those sweet babies makes me look at my beautiful wife with visions of little versions of ourselves.
After Mom played a couple of my songs on the van’s CD-player, we took pictures and took off.
Cars on all sides of us from Henderson to the Peabody honked, waved, smiled, and broke their necks attempting to read the van’s exclamations. The passing strangers had no idea that their ogling excited us as much as anything we’d experienced so far.
When we finally arrived at the Peabody, mom directed Pam to drive into the hotel’s parking deck where we were stopped by guards.
“This lot is only for people with reservations,” the black lady stated (I think she’s quite proud of her job). “Do you have reservations?”
“Yes,” mom replied, “Mustain.”
“Debra?” the lady said after a second of looking through her long list of the privileged.
“Yes.”
“Of course, go through this gate and . . .”
It felt good. Our family has been on a lot of lists, but this is one of the first times I can recall being on an exclusive list of people who were staying at the nicest hotel in the entire city of Memphis. My parents are wonderful!
Once we parked, I began to anticipate looking a little strange. You see, we’d packed in normal luggage for the most part (there were a couple Big Star sacks floating around, though they were not the rule), but one thing stuck out like a Bentley at a Waffle House – a shiny, gray and white, 20” box fan; the staple of any sleeping member of my family. We were about to walk in to the posh and historic Peabody Hotel with a box fan. It was awesome!
We settled in to the room, drank the complimentary water, executed the token running leap onto the bed, and rested. Lulled by the melodious tones of Fred Sanford on the TV, we must have napped for about an hour before we decided to try to see the famous "March of the Ducks" and hit the town.
It was far too crowded to actually see the ducks. In truth, we missed them, but we can at least say that we were present.
We stepped out of the hotel onto Grand Avenue and were met by a cavalry of carriages and a tidal wave of the sweet smell of ribs and Bar-B-Q, the natural aroma of the Memphis air. After promising a carriage owner that we would return to take him up on his offer, we hiked to Beale Street to take in the Blues culture.
We walked a few city blocks and stumbled upon the legendary thoroughfare in all its music, food, and wanderers. Quite a crowd had already gathered. We passed a man creating dream-like scenes of fantasy using only spray-paint. Guitars, singing, drums, laughter. The undulating crowd was going everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
Hunger pangs dictated our next destination: The Hard Rock Café.
At the foot of boots worn and signed by Rufus Thomas and to the right of a shirt worn by Adam Levine of Maroon 5, we enjoyed our meal (I had nachos, of course) and watched Tennessee whip California (yee-haw!), and heard about the Braves hard loss to the Phillies (grr! What a frustrating season this has been!).
We left full and walked to Coyote Ugly so Pam and Mom could have their picture taken in front of the sign like the rebels they are, then headed back to the hotel and mounted a white carriage decorated with Christmas lights, tinsel, and patriotically themed ornaments. Memaw, you would have loved it.
The night air was perfect. The breeze danced on our faces and the sights flirted with our minds as we gazed upon the beautiful parks and architecture of the city.
We returned to the hotel to see everything we’d just seen one more time, but this time from above on the roof of the Peabody. The elevator took us to the floor marked “S” which held the Duck Palace and one of the most spectacular views of the nighttime skyline.
After pictures and phone calls, we retired to the room, played a couple hands of Texas Hold ‘Em, and began to prepare for the morning.
. . .
The prize for the Alabama Idol competition was nice, but I didn’t like it at first. I thought that the winner got a guaranteed audition with Paula, Simon, and Randy, but we found out that it was actually a “Fast-Pass” of sorts. I was a bit disappointed, and it wasn’t until this past weekend that I realized how valuable it actually was.
In Birmingham, Karen and I waited in the registration line from 4:30 a.m. until 8:30 a.m. We returned to the audition line two days later at 5:00 a.m. and weren’t seated in the BJCC until almost 9:00 a.m. By the time I auditioned that day, we had collected almost 8 hours of waiting in line! Not so in Memphis. Thanks, Alabama Idol!
I didn’t have to be at the FedExForum until 7:00 a.m. on Sunday, and since Mom and Dad got such a great hotel, we only had about a 5 minute walk to get there. I think I finally fell out of bed around 5:45 or 6:00 a.m. on Sunday the 3rd. After a quick shower and a shave (my head), we walked out the door and Mom and I arrived at the venue about ten minutes early.
The line was magnificent! They said it was the biggest audition turn-out this season at almost 16,000 contestants! You can double that since everyone was allowed to bring in one guest. At the time of audition, I was on the floor surrounded by well over 30,000 people. My quote in the
Jackson Sun was accurate – it was quite unnerving!
Mom and I were taken inside the doors to the lobby well before the line was allowed to enter. We were among several who had won similar prizes from affiliate stations in other states.
It was here that we found that we weren’t totally exempt from waiting. In the lobby we waited for about 3 hours or so before we were taken below to the floor of the arena, but 3 hours versus 8? We’ll take 3 any day of the week!
Karen, Pam, B & B faithfully waited outside in their fold-out chairs holding their signs and watching the crowd of strangers, hopefuls, and weirdoes pass into the future. Karen and I called each other several times and passed love signals through the window from a distance, and after the crowd had waned they packed up and went back to the hotel to catch a few more moments in their heavenly beds.
Mom and I were eventually called about 10:00 or 10:30 a.m. to the corridor that took us down below. She had to leave me since the guests weren’t allowed to go where we were going. After hugs and encouragement she returned to the lobby and snuck in the arena to watch from above.
I waited in another little line before walking on the floor to audition, and then we lined up to sing.
There were 14 tables lined up with black, cloth-curtain dividers between each. Two judges sat at each table and four people lined up in front. At any given time there were 96 people auditioning, fourteen people singing, and 30,000+ people in the seats talking, singing, shouting, laughing, cheering, and waiting. That’s quite an obstacle.
It was then that I realized something I’d not thought before: the producers are not looking for great singers at this point in the auditioning! They can’t be! You can’t hear whether or not they can sing. Instead, they’re looking for personalities. “Will this person standing before me, whom I cannot hear, make a good show if the television is on and the sound is muted or there’s too much going on in the room to hear the music?”
Six people sang before me then I was up. I sang my song, Eric Benet’s version of the Kansas song “Dust in the Wind,” and she, the judge, stopped me to go to the next person. I thought I had failed again, and that was okay with me, but then she sparked a moment’s hope that I hadn’t anticipated. She asked me to sing a second song! I perked up with the bridge of Brian McKnight’s “Back at One” and tried to sing my heart out. She stopped me.
I did my best. I wasn’t chosen. That is 100% of all I can do, and I am satisfied.
. . .
I left the arena, found Mom, who already knew, and we marched our recessional to the sounds of phone calls all around us. People were calling home, friends, and spouses telling of their fate. I was no different. I called Karen who consoled me so sweetly. We called Dad and Shane who did the same. And we walked.
We entered the hotel just in time to see everyone leaving the scene of the ducks marching. We’d missed it twice. It’s okay.
When the elevator opened on the tenth floor, the girls were ready and waiting with the luggage and the fan. Hugs and consolation ensued and I appreciated every bit of it. It’s wonderful how something as simple as a hug can be so warm and perfect when you need it (and even when you don’t).
Karen held me a while and we all walked onto the elevator speaking of how we’d not be watching the show this year and how mad the whole process made us, but really, I was fine.
We loaded up, made a quick stop at Graceland to take a couple pictures and see the spoils of fame, then went to The Olive Garden to enjoy some grease, cheese, bread, and fat. It was almost as comforting as the hugs.
Most of the van slept on the way home. We were worn out mentally and physically. Poor Pam was just tired as any of us, but she had to drive. Thanks, Pam!
Back at the Lynch house in Henderson we sat on the couches and talked and watched some video footage of the weekend. The news showed some of the Memphis auditions, but the reporters were far more excited about it than we were. It was great, but we were beginning to realize that it would have still been one of the most memorable weekends of our lives had we re-done everything and deleted the auditions. Well . . . maybe not.
We held a devotional in the living room and took communion. That was wonderful. I love to worship with my family. Then we finished the weekend together almost exactly as it began – at a Mexican restaurant. We watched UK fall hard at the feet of Louisville, heard that the Braves had beaten the Phillies, and relived the weekend while smiling at acquaintances who came to eat there as well.
Afterward, we left for Casey and April’s to drown our sorrow in Texas Hold ‘Em and Oreo Cookies.
Karen and I left Henderson around 10:30 p.m. to head home. We sang, talked about the weekend, planned for the future and stared at the headlight-lit pavement as it slid beneath us like a treadmill. We marveled each time we saw deer by the road. We saw almost twenty by the time we had lain our heads on our pillows.
In one weekend’s time, I realized that I was a celebrity to my family. I didn’t need some desperate show to validate myself (though I don’t guess I would have turned it down). I was valid. I am valid. I come from years upon years of faithful Christians, solid marriages, loving households, and fine citizens. We celebrate birthdays and holidays together, and since Heaven is more wonderful than we can comprehend, then we’ll surely celebrate the day we all walk in together. And you’d better believe that one of us will be toting a box fan!
I needed all of you to find out what I needed for eternity in a wife and that’s how I knew Karen was who I needed for the rest of my life. She has been and always will be the most incredible answer to my family’s and my prayers.
I am not worthy of any of this, but I vow to you all and to God to live the rest of my life in gratitude for it.
Thank you for all of your prayers and support. I am among all men most blessed.
