60-SECOND ESSAY - What the Dixie Chicks can teach my daughter

60-SECOND ESSAY - What the Dixie Chicks can teach my daughter
By Heidi Stevens
Copyright © 2006, Chicago Tribune
Published August 18, 2006

For my daughter's sake, I hope Natalie Maines is the Mick Jagger of her time.

As I watched the Dixie Chicks rule the stage Tuesday night, playing banjo, violin and guitar, pumping their fists and singing about being "mad as hell," all I could think was: "I wish my daughter were here."

Of course, she's 10 months old and was sleeping soundly in her crib at home while I and the rest of a packed United Center got down to the Chicks. But the concert was such a moment of clarity in such a muddy time that I can only hope the gals emerge from this tour louder, madder and stronger than ever.

I stay up nights wondering what effect liquid explosives, global warming, Al Qaeda, dwindling oil supplies, MySpace and Lindsay Lohan will have in my daughter's life. Will they still make up the newspaper headlines, or will they be chapters in her history book? Will a chapter in her history book be titled "Newspapers: What the heck are those?"

The Chicks brouhaha is old news: They criticized the president, ticked off legions of their fans and had to cancel 14 stops on this tour because of dismal ticket sales. It's how they've handled the fallout that's taught me a thing or two about raising my daughter.

If the Dixie Chicks are still around when she's old enough to seek answers to life's big questions, I know they can teach her a few things: Tell the truth, even if it gets you in hot water. Don't apologize unless you mean it. If people want to change who you are, move on without them.

It's a scary world, and it's not likely to get any less so. But watching three fantastically talented women (all of them moms, I might add) play their hearts out as they sing, "You don't like the sound of the truth, coming from my mouth," gave me hope that brave chicks can always do their part to make it a better one.