Entry #34: March 9, 2006

Camp Buehring, Kuwait (Somewhere near the Iraq border)

All I was missing last night was a cup of $7 beer, a cowboy hat, and some hot boiled peanuts. Why was I missing all this, you ask? Well, Montgomery Gentry came to Camp Buehring and brought with them some great country music to raise our sanded down spirits.

I had some great seats, about 10 yards away from the stage, to soak in some sanity and sounds from Montgomery Gentry, whom I thank profusely for doing these shows. If you’re unfamiliar with Montgomery Gentry, they’re a duo who sing songs such as “Hell Yeah”, a song about good times and people from country bars and clubs, “My Town”, about the hometowns we grow up in and out of, but hold dear to us, and “Something to Be Proud Of”, about the things we do in life that we can reflect on and say to ourselves, I did alright and I did it right.

I didn’t always love country music the way I do now. I was mostly an oldies fan up until my early teens. That was the direct result of my Dad driving me and my brother Matthew to school and subjecting us to the old Fox 97 playlist. I still like the “oldies, but goodies” and can shag (the dance) to beach music like no other, probably a product of hearing “My Girl” umpteen thousand times in my formative years. The rhythm was ingrained in my wee little skull.

As I moved up in grades and down the social ladder as a result of my love of music past, I realized my taste in melodies had to evolve. I once was on a date with a girl who said she was a fan of Lynyrd Skynyrd. Trying to play along and act cool, I replied, “Yeah, he’s pretty good.” We didn’t last a month. I didn’t know that Lynyrd Skynyrd was a very popular Southern rock band and not an individual person. So I moved on, first to grunge and rock of Nirvana, Metallica, and Pearl Jam, then to some of the punk bands of the time, like Rancid. It wasn’t until I neared my senior year in high school did I discover the flowing twangs of Alan Jackson, Kenny Chesney, and the king of cowboys, George Strait. It was a revelation equal to 5th grade sex education. I was learning some useful stuff.

There are some real life lessons in these songs. Such as in Jackson’s “I Don’t Even Know Your Name “, I learned you should never hit on a Waffle House waitress when you’ve had a beer or several. That’s important. I’m also a fan of Garth Brooks’s “Friends in Low Places”, where I learned that some of the best times are spent in the company of friends gathered around a fire built in a 55 gallon drum telling stories. My personal favorite song is by Kenny Chesney, titled, “No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problems”. If nothing else, that song fits me perfectly, as I am a self-described Southern Beach Bum. I consider the finest stretch of beaches in the world to be between Myrtle Beach, SC and St. Augustine, FL. I love nestling my toes in the sand by the ocean with a straw cowboy hat on my head, a book in my lap, and a refreshing beverage in my hand, all the while soaking up the sun and the sights of lovely belles wandering the shore. Ahh, paradise.

So, for one night, I saw a country concert and was reminded how much I enjoy the music of my homeland and how influential it can all be. I think I’m gonna get an ice cold Coca-Cola Classic, some salted peanuts, and relax to the lovely sounds of the fiddle and steel guitar of my favorite tunes. And so the Soldier’s life continues…