“The tip of the plane’s wing hit a boulder on the edge of Otay Mountain, and it killed everyone on board,” McEntire told Oprah. “When we were notified, Narvel went to our pilot and told him what had happened.”
“When Narvel returned to the hotel room where I was — two or three a.m. — and said one of the planes had crashed, I asked, ‘Are they OK?’ ‘I don’t think so,’ he responded. ‘But you’re not sure?’ I asked. ‘I don’t think so,’ he replied.”
According to McEntire, they were anxious to learn the specifics of the catastrophe.
“Narvel was going room to room with a phone, ringing…” she said, pausing as tears rose. “I’m sorry – it’s been 20 years, but I don’t think it ever stops hurting,” she added. “But, I can see that chamber. Narvel is pacing back and forth.”
Friends like Vince Gill and Dolly Parton offered McEntire their bands to finish the tour, but she declined. For My Broken Heart, her next album was dedicated to the band members she had lost, and it debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard Top Country Albums chart, selling four million copies.
On the anniversary of the tragedy, McEntire regularly pays tribute to those who died that day. She used Instagram to commemorate the crash anniversary in 2014. On the 25th anniversary of the tragedy in 2016, she took a memorable trip to San Diego and shared it with admirers on social media.
McEntire wrote, “Today is the 25th anniversary of the plane accident.” “In November last year, I returned to San Diego and took a helicopter to the accident site. I have a feeling they realize how much we miss them. My heartfelt condolences and prayers go out to all the families and friends.”
My Husband Refuses to Help with Our Crying Baby at Night, Puts on Headphones & Listens to Calming Music – I Taught Him a Lesson
Scarlett is at her wit’s end, balancing a demanding career and a teething baby while her husband, Dave, sleeps peacefully with noise-canceling headphones. When he dismisses her pleas for help, Scarlett hatches a cunning plan to make him experience her sleepless nights.
I need to vent about something.
My name’s Scarlett, and I’ve been married to Dave for 25 years. We’ve got three kids: a 12-year-old soccer fanatic, an 8-year-old aspiring astronaut, and our newest addition, Lily, who’s six months old.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I love my kids to bits, but balancing a demanding career and raising these little humans is no joke.
Dave and I used to be this power couple. But lately, he’s been avoiding his share of nighttime baby duty.
Picture this: I’m pacing the room with a screaming, teething baby at 2 a.m., while he’s blissfully asleep, noise-canceling headphones on, listening to some darn calming ocean waves or whatever. It’s infuriating!
So, here’s the setup. It was one of those nights. Lily was teething and inconsolable. I’d tried everything—rocking, feeding, singing lullabies. Nothing worked. Exhausted and at my wits’ end, I shook Dave awake.
“Dave, I need help. Lily’s been crying for hours,” I pleaded, my voice barely masking my frustration.
He groaned and pulled off his headphones. “Scarlett, I have to be up early. My job is demanding. Can’t you handle it?”
“Seriously, Dave?” I snapped, feeling the hot sting of tears in my eyes. “I’ve been handling it all night. I need some support here.”
He rolled his eyes and turned away. “I need my sleep. I can’t function at work if I’m exhausted.”
That was it. The tipping point. His words stung more than they should have. I felt like I was drowning, and he was just floating by, oblivious. Something had to change. I couldn’t keep feeling this undervalued and alone.
That’s when I hatched my plan.
I’m not proud of it, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I decided to modify his precious headphones, planting a hidden speaker controlled by my phone. Yeah, it was sneaky, but I was desperate for him to understand my struggle.
I activated the speaker. The sound of a baby crying filled his headphones. He shot up, confused and irritated.
“Scarlett, did you hear that?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
“Hear what?” I replied, feigning ignorance.
He shook his head and stumbled over to Lily’s crib.
“Dave, I think you’re just stressed,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “Maybe you should help with Lily more often. It might help you sleep better.”
He stared at me, and I could see the wheels turning in his head.
“Yeah, maybe,” he muttered, but the doubt was there.
By the end of the week, Dave was a wreck.
He was snapping at the kids, his patience worn thin.
“Scarlett, I don’t know what’s going on, but I can’t take this anymore. I’m hearing things, and I’m exhausted.”
I bit my lip, feeling a mix of guilt and satisfaction.
“Dave, we need to talk,” I said, my voice steady but filled with the weight of the past few nights.
He looked at me, his eyes bloodshot and weary. “What is it? Just tell me.”
One peaceful night, after a particularly calm evening with Lily finally asleep, we crawled into bed, both of us utterly exhausted. Dave pulled me close, his arm wrapped around me.
“Scarlett,” he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude, “thank you.”
I smiled, feeling a sense of contentment wash over me. “Thank you, Dave,” I whispered back. “For being my partner.”
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