Something Better

It was the summer of 1998 and we were all waiting at the baggage claim. My mother had arrived for a visit; she had shared her flight with the support crew (and one of the stars) of the Brooks & Dunn duo. Mom had been seated beside a cheerful fellow who had taught her some magic tricks that she was eager to show us: his regular job was to sell CDs at the concerts and he had been on the road with the group for months.

I have some very vivid memories of those moments: it seemed like the wait was very long and that my family was somehow on display, drawing the surprisingly small crowd of waiters-around like honey and light. My three children were darling and this was one of those times where I could see that the antics and enthusiasm of my excited five-year-old son and sweet four-year-old daughter were admired and appreciated; our curly-haired, crawling baby boy, silently guarded by my husband, was simply the cutest ever. I was expecting my fourth child and was obviously filling out maternity clothes, yet I felt beautiful and happy, as if I were filled with joy and warm radiance.

And then the men began to talk. They clearly yearned for what we had. I was stunned to hear one mourn that he was going back to a broken home: his wife had filed for divorce while he had been on tour, and he was hoping to salvage his family. Others alluded to similar woes.

I glanced a few times at that tall, booted superstar, hanging back and watching the scene from around the edge of baggage claim. I recalled the winter I was sixteen, the year I had asked for a tabloid newspaper for Christmas: I had repeatedly combed through it, finding only evidence of ruined lives in the wake of superstar status--their divorces and arrests--there was even a page chronicling the suicides and drug overdoses of the children of those unfortunate, mixed-up people! That tattered paper became a pillar in my choice to choose family over fame, but I had not considered that there would be such a high cost to those Nameless Ones who even traveled with the band: the star seemed hardened, steeled against the pain that inevitably comes with the life he had chosen; those other men probably hadn't realized the cost this stint would be to their happiness.

It's no wonder famous folk have broken lives, that they are living messes: whether moral and emotional impoverishment leads to seeking fame or results from it, a casual observer of the rich should naturally wonder whether--and how--any superstars are whole. Happy marriages and successful parenting take lots and lots of time--at inconvenient times, if you are onstage when most people are looking for a night out. Normal dinnertimes and healthy bedtimes and productive morning routines are not very negotiable, and those are Shifts when Mother is needed most.


For it is Mom's job to "Be At the Crossroads." This means Mom doesn't have higher priorities, that she can be relaxed and focused on her family whenever "Quality Time" happens. "Mom" means you are the official "Crossroads Be-er," the "Time Giver," the "Home Maker," wherever you are.

It also means you give your best--and that you become your best. I have often said that my children deserve a World Class Mother, which is more important than a World Famous Anything Else. I am not perfect yet, but I can put all my talents to work at becoming the person they deserve, the person each needs to do his own life's work.

This is Something Better.