I remember three years ago watching the Capital Fourth on PBS and seeing Joe Dee there on the south lawn of the White House wrapping that sweaty audience around her hand. She seemed so happy, alive, easy, open. She told the audience that night that a few years earlier she'd spent the Fourth watching the same celebration on PBS and had promised herself then that she'd be on that same stage soon.
And there she was, with an international TV audience in her hands.
I understood because I've aspired to the same thing myself, and she was a small town plump talented chick not unlike myself.
When I lived in Nashville, I heard through the grapevine that she had told a number of record producers that they needed a redhead or two on their labels (this during the early heydays of blondlings Lori Morgan, Faith Hill etc.). Fortunately, they all agreed.
Her music makes me happy. Her voice is earthy and real. She makes me want to sing, even when I haven't vocalized, or when I have a sore throat. Her music makes me thing that she's somebody I'd like to be friends with, and if I were, I'd love to get drunk with her, she'd bring her guitar to my cookouts. I'd go to all of her shows, take all of my friends, and my mom would love her too. So would yours.