Stopping By

The Life Changer

“What are you going to do, run and cry to your 16,000 best friends?”

I got a lot of these messages. The internet is a cruel place, but there's one little corner of it that can turn your day around.

In 2017, I first heard Jason Isbell and The 400 Unit. I'd read in Rolling Stone that an alternative country singer put out a song called “White Man's World.” I couldn't roll my eyes hard enough. Country music was dreadfully boring to me. I lived my life in the pit, screaming, getting pushed and shoved and doing it back with all the rage of a 15-year-old girl. The rage started then, and it never went away. Country music was not for me. I even had a year post-divorce where I didn't want to feel anything at all so I listened to the local hip hop radio station. It played the same 10 songs

on repeat. I still know them by heart. Well, at least this Jason Isbell guy is telling the truth. It *is* a white man's world. Maybe don't be so proud of it, I thought. Straight to YouTube I'd go. It was there a song called “If Were Vampires” was first on Isbell's recommended. Oh, great. A country song about vampires. This should be painfully bad.

It was painful alright.

Adam and I married in 2007 and had our first child in 2008. He was my first boyfriend. We never really dated. We just hung out one day and he never left. We divorced in 2013. It was painful and mutual. We didn't do the things you hear about couples doing. We'd had one child. We'd adopted my 17-year-old niece. It was messy, but the mess was strictly between us. We found out quickly how people really felt about us. He told me that when he was packing a bag to move in with me his mom sat on the end of his bed and cried, not because be was moving, but because he was moving in with me. He told me to prepare me that it was going to be an easy split for her. She could finally show it. People chose sides even when we didn't. Adam lived with his dad for 3 months and then moved back in with me to coparent. To be honest, I missed my best friend. He got sober the day we split, and had 10 years under his belt now. We quietly gave it another chance a few times.

When my dad passed in 2015 Adam was right there by my side the whole time. I wasn't ok. I found out I was pregnant right after he passed, and less than a year after we had our second child, I was pregnant again. After having our third child in May 2017, I was angrier than ever I couldn't make us work as a couple. We were even falling apart as friends. No matter what I did or how much I changed myself, I could never make him love me how I thought I should be loved. That doesn't mean he didn't try, and it doesn't mean it was his fault. I'm very self-aware. What I want verses reality are two very different things. I'm not sure the relationship I want exists, and I'm not sure I can be in one otherwise. I'm the problem.

And that is the time I listened to “If We Were Vampires.” It wrecked me. I mean really wrecked me. I spent the day throwing up, crying, and just…feeling. Feeling like shit, but feeling.

I looked up Jason Isbell on Ticketmaster to find he was playing 5 nights at the Ryman, all sold out. How had I never heard of a person who could sell out 5 nights at the Ryman? I looked him up on Facebook and he wasn't on there. I did find a group called Jason Isbell Superfans, though. It was the first Facebook group I ever joined.

I found the group of people at my lowest point. A few days into being a member someone posted Jason Isbell added a 6th show, a Monday at the beginning of the residency. I managed to snag 2 tickets. I'd posted a few times in the group, the usual newbie posts like, “Where should I start?” I was bombarded with Southeastern recommendations, with an emphasis on the crowd favorite, “Cover Me Up.” I'd noticed there was an auction going on in the group. I never even figured out what it was for, but I offered to do a woodburning for auction. I was just learning and it was really bad, but everyone was nice and accepted it as a donation.

A few people from the group were meeting at Robert's before the show. I could already tell the guy who was supposed to go with me didn't want to go early to meet these people. So I did what any sane, rational person would do. I left without him and gave his ticket away in the group for free.

When I arrived at the meetup, I brought the woodburning with me. The person I was supposed to give it to asked me to hang onto it until after the show, because they had to go get in line for a Hatch Print. I had no idea what that meant, but I took this giant tree round in the Ryman with me so they could run (literally) upstairs. I awkwardly introduced myself to everyone. I was so bad at making friends, but everyone was so nice. They made me feel like I belonged.

That first show was incredible. I knew about 4 songs, but I was in awe of this band. I'd been to so many concerts in my life. This was the second time I'd cried at one, the first being Fleetwood Mac because my dad was supposed to go with me but he didn't make it. I cried at this one because I knew my life was changing again, because I had failed again at the only relationship I ever cared about, because I felt guilty for leaving my 3 kids to go to a concert when I was struggling so much financially, and mostly because I wasn't happy with who I was anymore. The music made me feel more emotion than I'd felt since my dad passed away.

When the show was over I walked all over the place looking for that guy. I checked my phone and saw a message, “Had to leave. Can you bring it back tomorrow?” I live a little over an hour north of Nashville, but I guess the concert high made me reply, “Yes.” So I left and started to walk back to my car. I walked through what I lovingly call the “garbage alley,” and saw some people from the meetup before. A man everyone seemed to know was coming down the stairs. Derry walked right up to me and asked what I was holding. I told him about it and he took it and said he'd be right back. A few minutes later he returned with my woodburning, signed by the whole band.

The next day I shuffled to work out a last minute sitter and bolted out of my office to get to Nashville in time for the meetup. When I handed over the woodburning, everyone overreacted. They didn't want to take it. They said I should keep it because it was worth too much now. I don't like any of my art so I explained to them I didn't want it and I drove all the way just to give it to them. They finally took it, and in return, they gave me a ticket to the show. Two nights in a row seemed crazy to me, but I stayed and even though I was there alone again, I had the time of my life. Before I left someone stopped me. They said they'd posted the woodburning in the group and someone paid $450 for it. I still can't get over that. Then, they said something even crazier. “Come back tomorrow. The group has a surprise for you.”

I went back the next night only to have the ushers walk me to the foldout chairs in the front. I sat with a group member I'd met earlier in the show. About halfway through Jason brought out a special guest. I leaned over to Martin, as the crowd went wild.

“Who is that?”

“Ashley. That's John Prine.”

I had no idea what was going in or who any of these people were. All I know is I was living in a dream, and I felt happy again.

By the 4th night so many people were trying to make sure I had a ticket that I ended up with 5. I was handing them out to everyone by night 6.

I never wanted that feeling to end, the one whereI helped the group raise money and the one where I gave people tickets. That's how it all started.

My last show at the Ryman was #93, and it was just as special as #1 because of the amazing people in Stopping By. People credit me too much when it comes to the group.

You all helped me as much as I helped you, and I will always be grateful for all 16,000 of my best friends.