The iconic 64-year-old country music hero Alan Jackson has captured the hearts of millions of people for more than 40 years with his timeless fusion of classic country music and honky-tonk rhythms. It is understandable that he has sold over 80 million records during his successful career given his immense contributions to the genre. However, his accomplishment is actually the result of a tale of perseverance and success in the face of hardship.
To the surprise of his devoted fan following, Alan disclosed last year that he had been diagnosed with a degenerative neurological condition. This information was received at a time when he and his family were still dealing with the untimely death of Mattie Jackson Selecman’s father, Ben Selecman. The family is still in deep grief over this terrible loss.
Despite these significant obstacles, Alan Jackson has used music as a means of self-expression and emotional healing. His albums “Where Have You Gone” (2021) and “Angels & Alcohol” (2015) are permanently marked by these very personal encounters. Alan honors the enduring love and priceless memories of those he has lost via his artistic creations.
As an Assistant District Attorney at the Davidson County District Attorney’s office, Ben Selecman was a rising star in his field. His sense of humor and unwavering dedication to his career are remembered with fondness by his colleagues. Everyone who knew him feels profoundly bereaved and left with a huge hole in their life.
Mattie Jackson, the daughter of Alan Jackson, has found comfort in her religion and her father’s unyielding support throughout this tragic time. They worked together on a strong song called “Racing the Dark,” which was a first for the father-daughter combination. This moving song is particularly meaningful to them both and is proof of the resilience that can arise even in the most painful circumstances.
Additionally, Mattie used her sorrow to fuel an incredible project by co-founding NaSHEville, a company that aims to empower women in Music City. “Lemons on Friday: Trusting God Through My Greatest Heartbreak,” her upcoming book, is a chronicle of her path of recovery and self-discovery. In this moving book, Mattie discusses her life’s extreme challenges, her spirit’s tenacity, and how these things helped her discover a new strength and purpose.
In a moving preface to the book, Alan and his wife, New York Times best-selling novelist Denise Jackson, discuss their own experiences and how they were able to find comfort and healing following the death of a family member. For others traversing the perilous waters of loss, their own journey serves as a beacon of hope.
Alan Jackson is adamant about his love of music and his desire to keep sharing it with the world even as he navigates his own health issues, particularly Charcot-Marie-Tooth syndrome, a degenerative nerve condition. The superstar of country music faces physical challenges as a result of this illness, but he is not letting it stop him from following his love. Alan’s steadfast dedication is evidence of his fortitude and willpower.
Let us offer Alan Jackson and his family our condolences and best wishes during these difficult times. We are appreciative of his music’s inspirational and joyful effects on our lives as fans. As we look forward to his upcoming performances and hold onto the classic songs that have become our lives’ soundtrack, may he find strength in the love and support of his loyal fan base.
Our Landlady Threw Us Out to Give the Upgraded Apartment to Her Sister — But Fate Quickly Taught Her a Harsh Lesson 5 days ago
It was like the ground had been ripped out from under me. I could barely speak, barely think. Chris, who had been listening in, immediately took the phone from me, his face a mask of shock and disbelief.
“Mrs. Johnson, there has to be another way,” he pleaded, trying to keep his voice steady. “We’ve put so much into this place. It’s our home.”
“I know, I know,” Mrs. Johnson replied, sounding genuinely sorry, “but Lisa’s family. She’s all I have left, and she’s in such a desperate situation… I can’t turn her away.”
What could we do? She’d made up her mind, and no amount of pleading was going to change that.
The next few weeks were a blur of packing boxes, canceled subscriptions, and trying not to break down every time I walked past a spot we’d lovingly restored.
The hardest part was leaving behind the memories we’d woven into every inch of that apartment—the late-night painting sessions, the laughter, the quiet moments of contentment.
Our new place was… well, it was a roof over our heads, and that was about all I could say for it.
It was smaller, darker, and lacked any of the charm that had made our old apartment so special. But Chris and I did what we always did—we made the best of it. We hung our pictures, arranged our furniture, and tried to pretend that everything was okay.
It wasn’t.
A few weeks after the move, I ran into Mrs. Patterson, one of our old neighbors, at the grocery store. We exchanged the usual pleasantries, but then she dropped a bombshell that left me reeling.
“Lisa’s been telling everyone how thrilled she is with the renovations in your old place. Said it was like moving into a brand-new apartment!”
My blood ran cold. Thrilled with the renovations? Wasn’t she supposed to be too distraught to care? Something didn’t add up, and I wasn’t about to let it slide.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. My mind was racing, replaying every conversation, every detail. There had to be more to this story, and I was determined to find out what it was.
Over the next few days, I started digging. I talked to a few other neighbors, asked some subtle questions, and pieced together a picture that made my blood boil.
Lisa hadn’t lost her job or her apartment. She’d manipulated Mrs. Johnson, using her sister’s kindness to get her hands on our beautifully renovated space. She hadn’t lifted a finger, but she’d swooped in and stolen the fruits of our hard work.
When I confronted Chris with what I’d found, he was furious—just as I’d expected.
We’d been used, betrayed by people we thought we could trust. Everything we’d built, everything we’d cherished, had been taken from us in the most underhanded way possible.
As we sat in our new, unremarkable living room, the weight of it all pressed down on us like a suffocating blanket. We were angry, yes, but more than that, we were heartbroken.
And it only got worse.
You ever hear something so downright ridiculous, that you just have to laugh? That was me and Chris when we first heard what Lisa had done to our old place.
I mean, you couldn’t make this stuff up if you tried. But there it was, delivered straight to us by the neighborhood’s most reliable source of gossip—Mrs. Thompson, who, bless her heart, couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it.
We were at the grocery store, of all places, when we ran into her.
“Judith! Chris!” she said, her voice tinged with that mix of excitement and pity that only someone like her could pull off. “You’ll never believe what Lisa’s done with your old apartment!”
My stomach dropped. I’d been trying so hard to move on, to not think about that place, but here she was, ready to spill the latest. I couldn’t stop myself from asking, though. It was like picking at a scab you know you should leave alone.
Chris, beside me, stiffened, his jaw tightening just the slightest bit. He knew whatever was coming wouldn’t be good.
Mrs. Thompson leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “She’s turned your beautiful kitchen into a metal workshop! Welding and all sorts of things, can you believe it?”
For a second, I thought I hadn’t heard her right. A metal workshop? In our kitchen?
Chris let out a low, bitter laugh, shaking his head. He looked at me, his eyes dark with anger, but also something else—a strange, grim amusement. “Well, isn’t that just perfect?”
My mind was reeling, trying to picture the damage.
It was infuriating, but there was something almost… poetic about it, too. She wanted our place so badly, and now she was destroying it piece by piece.
Mrs. Thompson, bless her, was still talking. “Mrs. Johnson’s beside herself, poor thing. She tried to get Lisa to leave, but you know how family is. Lisa won’t budge.”
Later that night, Chris and I sat on the couch watching TV. We hadn’t said much since the grocery store, both of us lost in our thoughts. Finally, I broke the silence.
“Do you think she’s ruining it on purpose?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.
Chris sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Who knows? Maybe she’s just that careless, or maybe she’s trying to wipe away any trace of us. Either way, it’s out of our hands now.”
I nodded, but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow.
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