The Time I Met Garth Brooks
Let's talk about NASCAR,
old Hollywood movie stars.
Let's talk about anything,
Anything in this world,
But politics, religion and her.
-Sammy Kershaw
I haven’t had many brushes with celebrities. A snapped photo here or there. The one opportunity that I did have, I walked right on past. A decision that still haunts me.
Like April Stearns, my father held many volunteer positions during my childhood — member of the Illinois Corn Growers Association, chairman of multiple church committees, organizer for Farmers for Bush (Sr.), school board president. All drew him away from our family at least one night a week. After a day of farming, he would come home, shower, change clothes, and head into town for one meeting or another.
His service on the McLean County Fair board netted the most direct benefit for me. Our weeklong 4-H fair was held every July at the local fairgrounds. Dad, as a board member, had access to a golf cart, food vouchers, and free tickets to the carnival rides. For a farm kid like me, that was the height of power!
One of the responsibilities of the fair board was to book the entertainers. Thanks to their wisdom, we had some awesome people roll through Bloomington, IL in the 1990’s. I was not a country music fan at the time so sadly, I can’t tell you what it was like to hear Tricia Yearwood belt out Walkaway Joe to a couple hundred people on a muggy Midwestern night. Or listen to Sammy Kershaw ask everyone to talk about “anything in this world, but politics, religion and her.” I’ll bet it was awesome.
There is one act from that time that I do remember: Garth Brooks.
Just before the 1991 fair, Garth released The Dance which went straight to number one. Despite his almost instant fame, Garth honored his contract to appear on our mainstage. I think it was on Saturday night, after the demolition derby.
The day of the concert, my father asked me to join him, my mom and their friends in the front row. I rolled my eyes (I don’t remember this exactly but feel this would be consistent with my attitude at the time) and told him that I was busy. My friends and I were meeting some boys to ride The Zipper and “hang out.” After a heated discussion, my father managed to extract a promise that I would at least stop by and meet Garth Brooks. WHATEVER, DAD! *moreeyerolls*
That night, I asked my friends to wait while I went to “shake some guy’s hand.” The group shrugged as I ran over to the stage. As the door of the silver tour bus opened, I saw Garth’s blue eyes and big smile under his gigantic black hat. My mom and dad appeared behind him. I quickly shook Garth’s hand, gave my dad a sour look, and went off with my friends. I assume I spent the rest of the night eating funnel cakes and feeling nauseated. My mom’s friend, on the other hand, took off her bra and threw it on stage at Garth! I don’t have to tell you who had the better night.
The point is not what terrible decisions we make as teenagers, but that public service has tangible benefits for us and the people we love - some of which we do not take advantage of and regret for the rest of our lives. (You were right, Dad!) And we need good people like my dad to step in and volunteer to spend time away from their families trying to make our lives better. This is local politics.
A few weeks ago, a friend invited me to a fundraiser for Dr. Steve Luking. I almost ignored the text message, but I was curious, so I decided to go.
The son of a sharecropper, Steve was a family practice physician for almost four decades in rural North Carolina. The medical practice that Steve and his brother ran provided cradle to grave services for the community around Reidsville, North Carolina. They took call every other night, covering the newborn nursery and ICU as well as their daily clinic. I didn’t know Steve personally but saw many of his patients when I worked at the cancer center up the road from his office. His patients loved him, and I could tell by his notes that he loved his patients.
After retiring, Steve finally had time to himself…and decided to enter politics. As we stood in the garage, I told him that how amazed I was at his decision to pursue a second career in politics. Steve shook his head and anger flashed in his otherwise gentle eyes. This isn’t about politics, Steve told me, this is personal.
Steve relayed a story of a couple who were long time patients of his. As the wife became more debilitated from her uncontrolled diabetes, her husband, who also had chronic health conditions, quit his second job to care for her. They lived in a trailer at the end of a long gravel road and had no transportation. Steve went on house calls to check their blood pressures and blood sugar levels, doling out samples as they were available.
They were “too rich” for Medicaid but had little income so could not afford her insulin. Steve visited them for a few years until the husband died suddenly and the wife soon after. Completely preventable deaths, Steve said as he shook his head. They were good people.
Steve talked about walking through their trailer, around rotted out holes in the floor and past walls where newspaper was shoved into cracks around windows. By this point in the story, tears had formed in Steve’s eyes, and he took off his glasses to wipe them away. I recognized the pain that I have felt when “the system” works against my patients. How is that fair? Steve asked me as his eyes flashed again.
I didn’t have an answer. The North Carolina State Legislature blocked Medicaid expansion for almost a decade. The man Steve is running against is the leader of our State Senate who spearheaded the blockade. The bio on Steve’s website sums up Steve’s indignation:
For ten years, Phil Berger spearheaded in the State Senate the effort to deny Medicaid access to over half a million of our working poor residents. Most of whom were women. Hundreds were my patients. I tried every way I know to get Berger and the other legislators to change their unforgivable stance. They muddled through weak, pathetic explanations for their partisan denial, but the truth is this past decade will go down as one of the most devastating lost opportunities in the history of our state.
Steve met with Berger (his neighbor and now opponent) many times. He brought example after example and begged the Senate leader to help. Berger did nothing. And Steve just had enough.
After the event, I discussed the evening with my friend. We talked about Steve’s courage, sacrifice and his singularity of purpose. Steve and his wife have a new granddaughter in Asheville. And a son who runs fishing charters in Alaska. I know he would like to spend more time with them instead of arguing with legislators in Raleigh. But I also know that he can’t forget what he saw in that trailer. And in so many of his patient’s lives.
As medical students, one of the first things we do is take an oath to promote the health of our patients. When Steve retired, he could have decided to walk away from that oath, and no one would have had anything but respect. Instead, he chose to take on one of the most powerful people in North Carolina politics. Not for the money, not for the fame, but for his patients and so many like them.
I realize that politics is a topic we all hear about but may be difficult to talk about. Politics, religion and her, right? I didn’t write a check that night to a political party or a candidate. I wrote a check to Steve, a doctor who spent his last years in practice amidst a pandemic and who, despite earning a well-deserved retirement, chose to continue serving his community.
As the election season nears and attention turns to national races, I encourage you to step back and look up who is running in a race closer to your home. Maybe even reach out or attend one of their fundraisers at a neighbor’s house. Like me, you might be surprised who you meet.
***For cancer survivors, you can learn about the Comprehensive Cancer Survivor Act here and also print out a form letter to send to your local representative.
***You can find out more about Dr. Steve Luking at www.steveluking4nc.com.
I love this piece! I just sent a check this week to a an MD colleague running for state legislature on rural healthcare access and LBGTQ rights!