Twenty-five years ago in the heart of Tennessee I escaped into the Land of Lala in my very own corner near Momma's kitchen. With a plastic flip-top Holly Hobby record player and my favorite Dolly Parton Butterfly album, I sang my heart out with a red-tipped xylophone mallet as a microphone proudly wearing one of Momma's old bras stuffed to double D.
All these years later and I still sing to that old record, although life now is reality, my record player is on sale at a five and dime somewhere in Alabama and my brassieres as Daddy called them never made it past a B.
Seems like music is in my bones. I have tried to escape it, but I keep coming back to my hometown Nashville full of memories bittersweet as I try to put my heart on paper and now on a recording I call my own. Maybe in the Land of Lala there will be a five-year-old girl in a corner near Momma's kitchen with a xylophone mallet microphone singing her heart out.
I sure hope so.
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