Loretta Lynn_ Coal Miner's Daughter - Loretta Lynn [106]
Anyway, we do two shows in Toledo. In between, they feed us a nice chicken dinner in the backstage cafeteria. This is a first-class operation here. We’re all exhausted from the long trip. After the second show, we drive back to Columbus.
The bus needs some fixing at the home garage, so we’re going to stay in Columbus for a few off days, then head to Canada and upstate New York. I’m looking forward to nothing but resting. It may not sound too exciting—three days off in Columbus—but it means sleep. I probably should fly home to the ranch and see my babies, but by the time I got there, it would be time to start packing again. So I’m just gonna sleep. We get back to the motel in Columbus, and there’re no Gregory Peck movies on the television set tonight either. So it’s just me and the four walls.
31
What’s Next?
And love is the foundation we lean on,
All you need is love to ease your mind….
—“Love Is the Foundation,” by William C. Hall
This is my life today, my “glamorous” life. Sometimes I ask myself, how long is this gonna go on? My twins are always asking, “Mommy, when are you going to stay home?” And my doctor tries to cut down my travel time because of my migraines and high blood pressure.
I hear people in Nashville gossip that I’m gonna wear myself out. But other singers keep traveling until they’re fifty or sixty. Look at Ernest Tubb. He’s learned not to wear himself down. He just does what he needs to do, and he’s still going.
But you can’t be halfway in this business. If you don’t meet the fans, you lose all you’ve got. And I love people and I love to sing, that’s what keeps me going. But when we get to the point where we don’t need another penny, I’d have to think about it. I’ve done everything there is in this business. Maybe there’s something else I could do that would help people more.
A lot of people say I’d really miss show business if I quit. Well, I’d miss some of it. But I never realized it would be like this when I started—all this traveling. Now it’s the only life I know.
I’ve never developed any other activities over the years—don’t play cards anymore, don’t read much, don’t play tennis. I was never on a golf course in my life until Ernest Tubb dragged me out to watch him play in 1974. I told him I’d rather watch baseball, where you can see the ball. So I guess I won’t take up golf when I retire. Really, I don’t know what I’d do with myself. Wash dishes? Heck, we just got ourselves a dishwasher last year.
Maybe I could spend more time with the kids. The twins are gonna need me around as they get into being teenagers. I want them to graduate from high school and maybe go on to college. I believe in education and wish I had a better one. Maybe I could help my older kids, too, on account of not being around when they were growing. They’ve got kids of their own now. I could be a real grandmother—baby-sit and stuff like that. But I don’t feel like a grandmother. And don’t tell me Doo is a grandfather—who wants to be married to a grandfather?
It’s been almost fifteen years since me and Doolittle had what I’d call a normal life, if we ever were normal, that is. I sometimes wonder what it would be like if I stayed home. We argue like crazy when I stay home for a day or two. It’s really kind of funny. I’ve worked all my life and now I’m in a spot where men tell me how to run my business, and when I go home other people tell me how to run my home.
But all that is changing. I’m not the bashful little girl I was fifteen years ago, when my only dream was a comfortable house for my family. In those days, if Doolittle disappeared for a day or two, I just accepted it. I got mad—but I accepted it. I’m different today. I refuse to be pushed around anymore.
I know how lucky I’ve been. I wouldn’t have dared