Dear Laney,
Back in 2003, I earned my first producing credit on a show for the USA Network called Nashville Star. I think I was 25 at the time. I got to live in Nashville and meet great people and see some amazing musical performances. If I had to point to the moment I became a grown up, I'm sure it would fall somewhere during that time in Tennessee.
As is often the case with that kind of reality competition show, when we got down to just a few contestants, we filmed what's called a "hometown package" for each - we took the contestants back to their small towns so everyone could make a fuss and have a parade and a concert in a parking lot somewhere. I know this part is confusing: Only a few of the executive producers and network honchos knew the voting results each week. Because one of these contestants would have already been eliminated, it meant that we were shooting their "hometown package" for no reason - it would never air. In short, we producers knew that one of us had been assigned to Dead Man Walking. I was assigned to Miranda Lambert.
Because I was inexperienced and had never had an assignment of that magnitude, I thought for sure Miranda was a goner. I mean, who would put ME in charge of something that might actually air on national television? Who would be that crazy?
I think Miranda (who was 19) thought the same thing, and it had the effect of taking all the stress out of the weekend I spent with her at her house in Lindale, TX. It didn't matter what we did - it's not like it was going to ever be seen by anyone.
Imagine our shock the following Saturday night when the show went live and it turned out that Miranda had not been eliminated, and instead had made it to the final 3. And our footage aired.
Eight Years Later...
Your dad and I went to see Miranda in concert here in Missoula last night. I didn't know if she would remember me, but we did the southern girl squeal and hugged each other and talked for a few minutes. She's moved to the top of the charts and married a fellow celebrity and created some first-rate albums. I've moved to Montana and married a furry mountain man and created two people. But in all the important ways, I think we're still the same girls who were once stranded in the Dallas airport together, with no idea what lay ahead.
She sang the song "The House That Built Me," one of the prettiest songs I know, while the projection screen behind her showed photos of her as a child. Your dad wouldn't want me to admit this to the general public, but he got a little teary-eyed. Later that night, he confessed it was because her childhood photos look so much like you. I'll admit that I straight-up cried when she sang it, because for all that frustrates me about the house we live in, I became a wife in this house. I became a mom in this house. And every weekend, your dad tackles some project that will make this house as much my dream as his.
Somewhere in the middle of all the great music, last night became a really profound look back at all the things that have built me. Thanks, Miranda.
Love,
Me
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