Tonight marks a special occasion.
It is, if my memory serves me correctly, the sixth time I will get to see Willie Nelson in concert, and the fourth time at Red Rocks Amphitheatre in Morrison, CO.
My relationship with Willie began in September 2001, when I was in graduate school and lived in Indiana. I went to FarmAid with a few friends, wore my hair in the obligatory Willie braids, donned my cowboy hat, and was first impressed and enamored by that dear Red-Headed Stranger who is so well known, such a part of American culture, who it could be said, embodies Americana itself.
I saw Willie again the following year, at an indoor venue while living in Bloomington, Indiana. Around the same time I was introduced to his lovely tune “I’m My Own Grandpa” by my friends Michelle and Scott, long time Willie fans. My appreciation for him and his great songs only grew from there.
Willie 2010 @ Red Rocks with son Lucas
Fast forward a few years to fall of 2006 to my next experience seeing Willie perform, at Red Rocks. I was with my older brother Bryan (who lives in Texas and has also been lucky enough to see Willie multiple times), my then-roommate Laura, my friend Bridget and Bridget’s sister and dad. We tailgated and ended up sitting around 15 rows back. By then I owned a stand-up pair of red, thrift store cowboy boots and felt I like I played the part better than ever as a solid Willie fan. My memories from this show include a lot of fist-pumping and wooing, and I think it was the first time I fell in love with the song “Me and Paul.”
My next opportunity to see Willie was with my friend Kate 2007, again at Red Rocks. It involved more tailgating beforehand, making friends through sharing food with random strangers, dancing way too hard, and ending the night with biscuits and gravy at the Denver Diner. I like to think we did Willie proud with that choice. I remember being stage right then, and loving every minute of it.
Then last Labor Day weekend, I convinced one of my best friends, Tiffanie, to drive out from Des Moines to see Willie with me; it was her first time, making it all the better. Our pre-show antics involved NEgra Modelos and Doritos (and a dear lesson learned about not bringing Doritos to a Red Rocks show; the young kids assume you have something else available, too). My Denver (now Dallas) friends Joe and Marisa joined us, and again I was up close—center, stage leftish. Perhaps my favorite part though, was after the show when the bass player from Willie Nelson’s son’s band (Lucas Nelson and the Promise of the Real) ended up beside us as we stood to file out. I turned to him and told him I had seen them perform earlier in the summer at Bender’s in Denver, to a crowd of perhaps 20 people (that being a generous estimate). His response was to hug me, and exclaim “Yes! You were crazy-dancing! I remember you!”
I can’t help but grinning every time I think about that.
(The ride home was also memorable and hilarious, for different reasons, but you’ll have to find me for more of that story.)
A few months ago, my dad called me, I think on a Thursday. “Want to come home on Sunday?” he inquired. Not such an easy task I explained, with a pretty vast distance separating Denver South Dakota. Turned out he had won free Willie tickets through the AM radio station. Luckily my younger brother Mark was able to attend, so we kept it in the family, much like Willie does, performing with his son and his beloved Little Sister.
So tonight, as I pull on those same red boots, braid my hair, and fill up my flask, I salute that old cowboy who has never let me down or ceased to impress me. After all, I'm just a good-hearted woman in love with a good-timing man. And if you’re at Red Rocks tonight, wondering who’s belting out those lyrics to “Whiskey River”, it’d be best to put your money on me.
