Like Me by Chely Wright Page B

beside myself with excitement that even though I hadn’t scored that big hit record yet, the Academy (made up of people in the industry) had nominated me. My record label and my manager at the time told me, “We’re a long shot,” and I said, “That’s okay. I’m just glad that my family will get to see me on the show!” That was true. I was happy to be included.
    I’d been in Los Angeles doing press for several days, and finally the moment had come. During the broadcast, there was a television commercial break, and the performers in the audience were milling around, talking to one another. As the show went to the break, the announcer said, “Coming up next, the Top New Female Vocalist award!” Directly across the aisle, seated to my left, was Barbara Mandrell. I don’t know a female country singer out there today who hasn’t been influenced by her. I’d known Barbara since 1990 and had always felt fortunate to hear her words of wisdom. She motioned for me to come to her, so I did. I knelt down by her seat and she took my hand and held it with both of hers. The first thing she said was, “Your hands are freezing, little girl!” Then she said, “Remember exactly how this feelsright now.” I nodded my head yes. “It will never get more exciting than this very moment, your first nomination.”

    Kenny Chesney and I met in 1993. For a while we had the same manager and producer. We spent time together touring, writing songs, and just being friends. This photograph was taken the night I won my Academy of Country Music Award in 1995
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    Toby Keith and me at the BMI Awards in 2005. We were each signed to Mercury Records but ended up being shuffled around under the PolyGram umbrella to be the flagship artists for Polydor Records. He was one of the performers who presented me with my ACM Award onstage
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    The presenters walked onstage, read the names of the nominees, then opened the envelope. “And the winner for the Top New Female Vocalist is …”
    Everything turned to slow motion. I heard my name being called. I still have no memory of how I made it up to the podium. I had not prepared a speech for that night, but I’d been rehearsing one since I was a little girl, and the right words came out. Barbara Mandrell’s advice to me allowed me to absorb what was happening. As I looked out at the audience and said my thank-you’s, I received proud smiles and thumbs-up from the biggest names in country music. It was one of the greatest moments of my career.

The Thin Line
    L ate one night I was at my apartment packing for a tour in Japan—months after I’d been given my ACM—when the phone rang. It was Aunt Char calling to tell me to fly safely the following day and to ask me what I’d think if my parents were to get divorced.
    “What?” I asked. “Are you serious?”
    “It might be lookin’ that way, kiddo.”
    She wasn’t able to shed much light on the matter and, frankly, I don’t recall that I had many questions for her. I can’t even say that I was upset about the possibility that my mom and dad might be splitting up, but I do know I was surprised. They’d always seemed bound and determined to stay together despite their obvious mutual misery. Even I at a very young age, perhaps in my early teens, knew that they needed to get professional help, call the whole thing off, or both.
    I climbed aboard my international flight the next day and confided my parents’ potential break-up to my drummer, Preston, who’d been as close to me as any family member. He was concerned, and did his best to provide comfort during that trip. Preston had been around my folks a good amount of time, and he shared my sentiment about the situation, that it wasn’t so much sad as it was weird. Whatever warts and dysfunction my parents’ marriage may have had, they just seemed to have a styleand a visible
that makes sense
to their relationship. People, including me (especially after I became a young adult), enjoyed being