Free It's All About Him by Denise Jackson

Within a few months I had stopped working at the job I loved, had a baby, and moved into a big home that felt overwhelming. Alan was suddenly America’s new country heartthrob and was gone at least four days a week. I was on a runaway train barreling down the tracks. I had no control over it, I didn’t know how to stop it or even slow it down, and sparks were flying.
    One evening we went out to eat at a local restaurant. Mattie began to get fussy, and some people around us were already noticing who Alan was. Rather than cause a disturbance, I thought that I could calm Mattie by nursing her under her receiving blanket. I draped it over my shoulder as I held her close.
    But she began to scream even harder, flailing her little arms, and to my surprise, actually pushed the blanket off me. I was exposed—briefly—and humiliated for much longer. I was sweating,my heart was pounding, and I would have turned back time if I could. I just wanted my old life back, the life I knew, with Alan at home, free from demands I could not handle.
    Buses, Buddies, and Bidets
    Meanwhile, after four years of rejections and setbacks, Alan was finally living his music dream, big-time. He bought his first Silver Eagle tour bus with a loan from our newest best friend at SunTrust Bank, Brian Williams. Alan and his band rolled in style all over the country, opening for Loretta Lynn, Conway Twitty, George Jones, Merle Haggard, Alabama, the Judds, and other headliners.
    During this time Alan played a big club one night to a sold- out crowd. His tour manager, Carson, told Alan that when he was finished, he should just exit stage left, go through the door there, and Carson would be waiting to escort him to the bus.
    Alan played his show, finished his last song, and waved to the cheering crowd. Then he turned and walked off the stage to the right. He found the door, opened it, and strode confidently through, still exhilarated by the crowd’s enthusiasm.
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    AS HE WENT OVER THE THRESHOLD, HE FELL OUT OF THE DOORWAY AND INTO A PITCH-BLACK VACANT LOT OUTSIDE.
    HE HAD GONE OUT THE WRONG DOOR, AND HERE HE WAS, THE BIG NEW STAR, STUCK IN WAIST-HIGH WEEDS AND TRASH OUTSIDE THE THEATER.
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    As he went over the threshold, he fell out of the doorway and into a pitch-black vacant lot outside. He had gone out the wrong door, and here he was, the big new star, stuck in waist-high weeds and trash outside the theater. It was so dark that he could not see a thing. He just stood there . . . and then within two or three minutes, he saw a flashlight beam bobbing through the weeds. It was his manager, coming to rescue him.
    â€œAlan!” Carson whispered. “Pssssst! Alan! Over here!”
    Soon Alan was in safer venues. His first yearlong tour had him opening for Randy Travis, who was selling out 20,000-seat arenas.
    This was heady stuff. Other than the isolated and sometimes grimy bars where he had played in his lean years, Alan hadn’t really been much of anywhere except Florida a few times, a big trip to Washington, D.C., when he was twelve, and family camping trips to Alabama.
    Now he was traveling the country, lavished with attention. It was all so new. He still remembers staying at his first elegant hotel. He walked into the bathroom, and there was a strange device he’d never seen before. It was next to the toilet, a low, ceramic basin with faucets and spray. He knew it wasn’t a water fountain. He knew it was in the bathroom for a reason. It was a bidet, of course, but Alan had never heard of such a thing.
    Even if he didn’t know what a bidet was back then, he was still a star. On tour, people could not get close to him unless they had an “all-access” pass.He was escorted everywhere, even in the secured areas, by his tour manager. Just hanging out with the crew and band at each venue was energizing. They’d do a sound check together in the afternoon, have a catered meal somewhere in the building, and then