I Was Really Wrong about Lyle Lovett

I'm wrong a lot.

About all kinds of different things.

Daily.

Regularly.

Most of the things I'm wrong about are minor in the scheme of things - they might be a big deal right at that moment when I realize the wrongness has happened, (that surely can't be grammatically correct),

like when I got "wings" cut in my hair when I was a senior in high school.

But it grew out, life went on, and I continued my daily wrongness on a regular basis.

But there's one thing

(well maybe several, but I want to keep this specific)

that I was REALLY wrong about.

Lyle Lovett.

Back in the day (I really never use that phrase but it just seems so apropos here) I was in a voice class with Lyle.

Yes, at Texas A&M in the late 70's.

And I just know that right now those of you that know me and my kind of whiney, nasally voice, are saying "well I bet SHE was really the "star" student!"

And that hurts me.

But I'll get over it 'cause I've got a little story,

I daresay a life lesson to share.

For my major I had the option to take either voice or public speaking.

At that time in my life just the words "public speaking" made my brain seize up, my upper lip break out in a sweat, and big red splotches to instantaneously appear over all the parts of my body that unfortunately were not covered with clothing.

Have you ever noticed that?

How the splotches never hide themselves discreetly under your clothes?

Anyway, I took voice.

Me, Patty (my roommate) and Lyle.

And a few other minor players (classmates) that don't have a starring role here.

At the time Lyle was a recognizable face on campus.

He just has that kind of face, no?

And I won't even mention the hair.

When he wasn't in class, he was sitting on the steps or the short wall around the Memorial Student Center playing his guitar and singing. On the weekends he played at the coffee shop in the basement of the MSC.

If I remember correctly, he was a student st A&M for quite a long time, longer than the average four, OK five, six? years.

Let's just assume he spent a lot of time singing, and that kind of got in the way of the old class schedule.

He sat beside me.

He was quiet and polite.

And in my opinion (at the time) odd.

Very odd.

I think I might have once or twice used the adjective "weird".

Please forgive me.

We had to sing songs in front of the class. We had to recite sonnets.

We had to re-recite the sonnets leaving out all the consonants.

Or the vowels,
or whatever the professor decided that he wanted us to leave out.

It was freaky.

And yet Lyle would get up and choose what I thought were the strangest, weirdest, oddest, songs and really seem like he enjoyed doing all those freaky things.

And my wrongness was this-

I thought he had no future in music. I felt sorry for him. I think I even contemplated at one time sitting him down, giving him some advice (which is really a funny thing to call it) and tell him "Lyle, you might want to consider another career, because I'm really, really insightful and smart about things like music, careers, your personal goals, and talent, and well Lyle, it's just not gonna happen for you."

And I was going to say that in my nicest "I'm pretty smart about these things" kind of way.

Well, unfortunately for Lyle, I never worked up the courage to do that.

And for a while I really felt bad about it. I mean look at all the time he was wasting pursuing his doomed dreams.

And look what happened.

He is a multi-gabillionaire.

One of the most popular entertainers of our time.

A music icon.

And what's the moral of this story?

I think it might be that I'm wrong

a lot.

About all kinds of different things.

Daily.

Regularly.