For sure, Tim McGraw

TIM MCGRAW. Tim McGraw. How Tim McGraw? Why Tim McGraw?

However well-known this apparent treasure of a musician might be, he is a country singer, and country music and I just don’t saddle. My interest in country music extends as far as Gary Hector wants to take it. If one of my sisters took it up I don’t think I’d be able endure it. Just Gary.

Country music is a sort of mystery to me. I’ve heard people say they don’t understand Indian music because they didn’t grow up with it. Because raags speak a different language from western melodies, they don’t get the feel of it and it’s all broken guitars to them. I don’t know what they put into country, but the effect on me is similar.

Imagine my utter discombobulation when I discovered Tim was living in my head. His Humble and Kind from 2016 was new to me up to a couple months ago.

The start of the chorus is: “Hold the door, say please, say thank you.”

And that was it for me. I may or may not listen to more of him. I opened myself to one song and it gave me more than I thought that particular world of music had to offer.

I’ve been fighting a losing battle with concepts of decency for ages now. And truly struggling with how – and indeed if – to talk about it in the town square.

It’s a lot trickier than it looks. It only looks easy if you don’t care if people think you’re imposing your values on them. It’s one of those things that should be simple, but simply cannot be. Because we’re not one-dimensional. We’re not uncomplicated.

So, back to Tim’s song. The lyrics, by Lori McKenna, include lines about not taking things for granted and helping people.

Let’s say you’re not married to what you think of as the antiquated idea of someone holding the door for you. Try this: the person holding the door need not be a man. The person they’re holding the door for need not be a woman. I’ve seen people hold the door open for so many others at the grocery they look like they work there.

But say “please” and “thank you.” No matter how I look at it I can’t find fault. Not just because it was how I was raised. Not just because I am a Caribbean person and I believe that is how we were raised and it is what sets us apart from the rest of a world raised by wolves. I just can’t see how it’s not right.

It is consideration and appreciation. A world without these things – that is to say, this very one in which we wobble about – is exhausting. I don’t know if we see it, but it breaks us. The world turns an uncaring face toward us and we have to fight that from our front door to work and back again. How draining. How soul-killing.

I’m no precious flower. This is not about needing to move to a different century and possibly hiring a lady’s maid.

I don’t jump the line. I don’t play music at a level that suggests I believe my neighbours share my listening tastes. If my handbag or I collide with you, we apologise. These things do not make me weak. I don’t need to hold dominion over you.

Not everything needs to feel like a test of wills. Maybe that’s really where all of this comes from. Maybe all of my angst about people behaving decently toward each other is a working-out of how to stop so many small acts of thoughtlessness or unthinkingness or indifference.

Indifference is the hardest to bear. Give me hatred, give me cruelty, but to be indifferent is to wipe me out of existence.

The name of the song that kicked this off is Humble and Kind, but I’ve talked about the chorus because that was really the remedy I was looking for. “Humble” and “kind” are too big for this space here. I might need one column for each word. And possibly one for “and.”

I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be obnoxious and oblivious. (When I mean it, you’ll know.) It is too easy to offend and too difficult to make amends. My irritant may be your Tim McGraw. Maybe the song is called Humble and Kind for a reason: it’s all you can ask for without getting someone angry.

That’s the saddest thought I’ve had all day.

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