I love old pictures.
You know, the ones that are a weird mix of sepia and black and white with ragged corners coming apart. When I was young, I happened upon an old army duffle bag that belonged to my dad. Inside that green canvas was a whole world of pictures just waiting to be discovered: family and friends, funny school pictures, military photos, all the Teachenor siblings playing music, my cousins standing beside their classic cars, horses, mules, and eventually…tractors. Ancestors that somehow looked like me.
Those snapshots from a different time, were reminding me from where I came.
Just like a song.
Like when we were driving, to lay my Grandpa to rest behind that little church in Arkansas, and I heard Allen Shamblin’s song “He Walked on Water” (recorded by Randy Travis) come across our old car radio speakers. It was almost like someone was hiding in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to press play.
I guess that’s why I’ve always loved songs. I imagine myself in the writer’s shoes. If the moment’s just right, you can feel their happiness in the music, their sadness in the lyric, or their love in the melody—and it sets my mind to work painting a picture. That’s how I knew I would grow up and make songs for a living.
I moved to Nashville the day before I turned 21 and have been head-over-heels in love with this town ever since. I love the neon lights that glow up and down Broadway and the music that filters out from unknown stars. I love the small Music Row bungalows that house the world’s most famous songs and the secrets behind them. I still get giddy listening to the Opry on AM radio every Saturday night. The list goes on, indefinitely. The Opryland Hotel – where Jen and I exchanged our vows. Baptist Hospital (renamed St. Thomas), where Charlie and Lily were born. And that little country church just outside of town where I baptized them both. So, it goes without saying in all my life I had never dreamed of leaving this amazing town.
Until I saw an Air Force ad on Nashville’s Craigslist.
Now, it should be said, I grew up with a strong and healthy respect for the United States military. My Dad was a tank gunner in the Army (Old Ironsides – 1st Armored Division, to be exact), Uncle Gene served in the Navy (and is buried in Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery), and Uncle Duane was stationed in Africa with the Air Force (HUA!). They served throughout the 50’s and 60’s and I always thought they were so cool. My guess is maybe all little boys feel that way about soldiers.
So, you can imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon the ad looking for a singer for a country band. I didn’t know the military had musicians other than a marching band or an orchestra. I thought it was all bugles and snare drums…
After reading the requirements I was intrigued. I seriously started thinking about whether or not I met them. I mentioned it to Jen, and like always, she dropped everything, took my hand, and listened to a half-formulated plan that sounded completely insane. It would turn our world upside-down.
We spent the rest of the night talking and praying about it and the next day my incredible wife helped me put together the first resume I had in my entire life. We sent it, along with a CD of me singing and playing the piano (I added the National Anthem for good measure!) to the Air Force Academy Band. All we had left to do was wait on God and see what He was going to do with this situation. Well that, and Jen started researching school districts for the kids to attend.
It’s pretty amazing how God will use a journey you’ve been on to show you a new turn in the road. The Air Force called back and wanted to audition me in person at, none other than, the famous Music Row in Nashville, TN. I had literally spent the last 14 years pouring my heart out on those historical streets.
They videoed my live audition, flew back to Colorado to play it for the Commander, and three days later he called me with the offer to change our lives.
I accepted. And so it began.
Nine years ago this month, I was smack dab in the middle of Basic Military Training in San Antonio, Texas. My whole world—my incredibly comfortable life—had all been stripped down to nothing more than a twin-sized bed and a wall locker.
I did exactly as I was told. There was no other option. See, most of the folks entering the military are 18 and single. They are used to taking orders or having someone tell them what to do. They were just starting their lives, but I had already lived. A lot.
I realized then, experience could be your best friend and your worst enemy. It’s hard to be stripped of every thing you are and are known. The pictures in the duffle bag, the songs I left in those little houses on Music Row, and my last name, meant nothing to the Technical Sergeants training me. I was just one in a slew of many learning to serve our country.
It’s amazing how the 50 other guys, who were sleeping, showering, shaving, and sh—(well, you get the picture…), genuinely had my back, and became part of my journey. I will remember some of those guys forever.
Every spare moment we could get, we would take turns looking at pictures we got in the mail. I would tell them about Jen and the kiddos and they would tell me about their families—a few even mentioned pretty girlfriends, fiancés, or wives. When there was no Training Instructor around, the boys would ask me to sing them songs I wrote, or sing a song that meant something to them. Sometimes they would sing along, beatbox, or drum on the side of the bed. Some had incredible voices, some were terrible singers, but every one of us sang with all our hearts. It helped us see through the fog of basic training and remember who we were before we joined the military…who we still are. Sometimes you just need a little reminder.
Like a photograph. Or a song.
Below is a photo of my dad, Jim Teachenor, in his Army service dress uniform and me in my Air Force service dress uniform. Both were our first official photos taken during Basic Military Training (BMT).
It may have not be the same direction in which I started, but it was the same road I’ve always traveled. It just happened to be leading me somewhere I’d never imagined.
And, just like I’ve always done, I’ll keep following the music and see what ends up in my own green duffle bag…
Jamie Teachenor 