Today, Reba McEntire is 68 years old, and she truly deserves all the praise she gets. It feels like she has been part of my life forever, and I still listen to her music several times a week.
However, Reba’s life hasn’t always been easy. This year marks the 32nd anniversary of a tragic plane crash that took the lives of several of her friends.
After breaking into country music in the late 1970s and early 1980s, Reba McEntire was named “best singer” for four years in a row by the Country Music Association. She also has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
But despite her amazing career and success, Reba has faced many personal challenges. In 2022, her mother, Jacqueline, lost her battle with cancer at the age of 93.
“She had a wonderful, full, healthy life and was absolutely ready to go. The cancer might think it won the battle, but we’re giving God all the credit for choosing the time for her to go home,” the country star wrote on social media.
Jacqueline McEntire always dreamed of being a professional country singer, and she was the one who taught Reba to sing, fulfilling her ambitions through her daughter.
“She left knowing how much she is loved, and we all know how much she loved us. We’re all going to miss her, but we have so many wonderful memories,” Reba said.
Reba truly understands what it means to face sorrow and loss.
Thirty-two years ago, on March 16, Reba McEntire lost seven of her band members and her tour manager in a tragic plane crash after a concert.
I remember that day in 1991. I was driving to work and heard about the crash on the radio. My heart skipped a beat when I thought Reba was also on the plane.
But she wasn’t.
Reba and her band had performed in San Diego on March 16, 1991, and were heading to Fort Wayne, Indiana, for their next concert on the tour.
Two planes were waiting at the airport in San Diego. The band members and tour manager flew on ahead while Reba, her husband, and her manager stayed overnight in San Diego.
The first plane tragically crashed just ten miles east of the airport.
Over the years, Reba has often remembered her lost friends.
In a heartfelt interview with Oprah Winfrey in 2012, she talked about the day her band died.
“The tip of the wing of the airplane hit a rock on the side of Otay Mountain, and it killed everyone on the plane,” McEntire told Winfrey.
“When we were notified, Narvel (Reba’s manager) went to meet with our pilot, and he told us what had happened. Narvel came back to the hotel room where I was — it was two or three o’clock in the morning — and he said one of the planes had crashed. I asked, ‘Are they OK?’ He said, ‘I don’t think so.’ I asked, ‘But you’re not sure?’ He said, ‘I don’t think so.’”
Reba had tears in her eyes as she remembered the details of the tragedy.
“Narvel was going room to room with a phone and calling…” she began, pausing as tears filled her eyes. “I’m sorry — it’s been 20 years, but it’s just like — I don’t guess it ever quits hurting,” she said. “But I can see that room. I can see Narvel walking back and forth.”
Now, 32 years have passed since the crash. Recently, she shared a photo of her band on Instagram to remember the tragic events of that day.
In 2020, she also paid tribute to her friends.
“29 years ago today, I lost my friends in a plane crash. The timing of Mama’s passing with that anniversary seems appropriate,” she wrote.
“I know they’re all in Heaven together and taking care of each other. Let’s keep finding ways to take care of each other down here on earth and never take one moment with our loved ones for granted.”
Reba’s fans quickly offered their support to the country star. Many sent positive thoughts and prayers.
“Reba, I’ve always loved your music, our shared horse background, and now following you on Insta. Prayers for you and your mother,” one fan wrote.
In 2023, Reba showed once again that she will never forget her friends and still mourns their tragic loss.
“Their love for music and the stage gives us all the strength to go on,” she wrote, sharing a video of the group performing together.
A Stranger Volunteered to Hold My Grandson at the Laundromat — His Next Action Left Me Breathless
When my washing machine broke while I was babysitting my grandson, I reluctantly headed to the laundromat. A kind stranger offered to help by holding the baby while I sorted clothes. Grateful, I accepted, but when I turned around minutes later, I saw something that made my blood run cold.
I’d been counting down the days, practically bursting with excitement. My first weekend alone with little Tommy, my precious grandson. At 58, I thought I’d seen it all, done it all. But nothing could have prepared me for the rollercoaster of emotions that lay ahead.
The day finally arrived. Sarah, my daughter, and her husband Mike pulled up in their sensible SUV, packed to the brim with what looked like enough baby gear to stock a small daycare.
“Mom, you sure you’re gonna be okay?” Sarah asked for what felt like the millionth time, her brow furrowed with that new-mom worry I remembered all too well.
I waved her off with a confident smile. “Honey, I raised you, didn’t I? We’ll be just fine. Now scoot! You two deserve this break.”
As they drove away, I turned to Tommy, nestled in my arms, his tiny fingers curled around my thumb. “It’s just you and me now, little man,” I cooed. “We’re gonna have the best time.”
I had it all planned out: cuddles, bottles, naps, and playtime, all neatly scheduled. What could possibly go wrong?
Famous last words.
It started with a gurgle. Not the adorable baby kind, but the ominous rumble of my ancient washing machine giving up the ghost.
I stared at the growing puddle on my laundry room floor, surrounded by a mountain of tiny onesies and burp cloths.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, feeling my perfect weekend plans crumble. Tommy chose that moment to unleash an impressive spit-up all over his last clean outfit.
I took a deep breath. “Okay, Grammy’s got this. We’ll just pop down to the laundromat. No big deal, right?”
Oh, how wrong I was.
The local laundromat was a relic from the ’80s, all buzzing fluorescent lights and the acrid smell of too much detergent.
I juggled Tommy, the diaper bag, and an overflowing laundry basket, feeling like I was performing some sort of demented circus act.
“Need a hand there, ma’am?”
I turned to see a man about my age, all salt-and-pepper hair and a grandfatherly smile.
Under normal circumstances, I might have politely declined. But with Tommy starting to fuss and my arms about to give out, that offer of help was too tempting to resist.
“Oh, would you mind? Just for a moment while I get this started,” I said, relief flooding through me.
He reached for Tommy, his weathered hands gentle as he cradled my grandson. “No trouble at all. Reminds me of when my own were little.”
I turned to the washing machine, fumbling with quarters and detergent pods. The familiar motions were soothing, and I found myself relaxing. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
That’s when I felt it. A prickle at the back of my neck, a sudden silence that felt oppressive. I glanced back, more out of instinct than any genuine concern.
My heart stopped.
Tommy, my precious baby grandson, had something bright and colorful in his tiny mouth. A Tide pod. And that “helpful” stranger? He was just standing there, smiling like everything was fine.
“No!” The scream tore from my throat as I lunged forward, my hands shaking so badly I could barely grab Tommy.
I pried the pod from his mouth, my mind reeling with horrible possibilities. What if I hadn’t turned around? What if he’d swallowed it?
I turned back to the strange man in a fury.
“What were you thinking?” I yelled at the man, clutching Tommy to my chest. “Don’t you know how dangerous these are?”
He just shrugged, that infuriating smile still in place. “Kids put everything in their mouths. No harm done.”
“No harm done? Are you mad?” I snatched up a detergent pod and thrust it toward him. “Here, why don’t you eat one then and we’ll see how it agrees with you!”
The man raised his hands and backed away. “What? No ways. It’s not like he got any, he was just nibbling on the edge…”
“Nibble on the edge then!” I snapped. I was practically stuffing the pod in his mouth at this point, I was so angry!
“Leave me alone, you crazy Karen!” The man tugged the pod from my fingers and threw it aside. “Fine thanks I’m getting for trying to help you.”
I wanted to shake him, to make him understand the gravity of what could have happened. I may well have done something crazy too, but Tommy was crying now, big hiccuping sobs that matched the frantic beating of my heart.
“You, are an absolute menace!” I yelled at the man as I started grabbing my things. “And an idiot, too, if you think it’s harmless to let kids chew on whatever they put in their mouths.”
I snatched up the washing basket, not caring about the wet clothes left behind or the quarters wasted.
All that mattered was getting Tommy out of there, away from that clueless man and his careless disregard for a baby’s safety.
The drive home was a blur. Tommy’s cries from the backseat felt like an accusation. How could I have been so stupid? So careless?
I’d handed my grandson over to a complete stranger, all because I was too proud to admit I might need more help than I’d thought.
Back home, I collapsed onto the couch, Tommy held tight against me. He was still crying, and I couldn’t help wondering if he’d swallowed some of the chemicals after all.
My hands were still shaking as I took out my phone and called my doctor. I couldn’t stop the tears that came, hot and heavy, when the receptionist picked up.
“Miss Carlson?” I sobbed. “This is Margo. Please, can I speak to Dr. Thompson? It’s urgent.”
The receptionist quickly put me through, and I explained everything to Dr. Thompson. He asked me a series of questions, like whether Tommy was vomiting or experiencing any trouble breathing.
“No, none of that, doctor,” I replied.
“It seems like you got lucky then, Margo,” he replied, “but keep a close eye on that grandson of yours and get him to the hospital immediately if he starts wheezing, coughing, or vomiting, okay?”
I promised I would, thanked Dr. Thompson, and ended the call. His words had given me some relief, but the “what ifs” kept playing through my mind like some horrible movie I couldn’t turn off.
What if I hadn’t looked back in time? What if Tommy had swallowed that pod? What if, what if, what if…
As the adrenaline faded, exhaustion set in. But even as my body begged for rest, my mind wouldn’t quiet.
The weight of responsibility I’d taken on hit me full force. This wasn’t like babysitting for a few hours. This was a whole weekend where I was solely responsible for this tiny, precious life.
I looked down at Tommy, now sleeping peacefully against my chest, unaware of how close we’d come to disaster. His little rosebud mouth, the one that had so nearly ingested something so dangerous, now puckered slightly in sleep.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” I whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Grammy promises to do better.”
And in that moment, I made a vow. Never again would I let my pride or anyone else’s apparent helpfulness put Tommy at risk. From now on, it was just us: Grammy and Tommy against the world.
The rest of the weekend passed in a blur of hypervigilance. Every little sound had me on edge, every potential hazard magnified in my mind.
By the time Sarah and Mike returned, I was a wrung-out mess of nerves and sleep deprivation.
“Mom, are you okay?” Sarah asked, concern etching her features as she took in my disheveled appearance.
I plastered on a smile, handing over a happily gurgling Tommy. “Just fine, honey. We had a wonderful time, didn’t we, little man?”
As I watched them drive away, relief and guilt warred within me. I’d kept Tommy safe in the end. But the close call at the laundromat would haunt me for a long time to come.
I trudged back inside, eyeing the pile of still-unwashed laundry. With a sigh, I picked up the phone.
“Hello? I’d like to order a new washing machine, please. ASAP.”
Some lessons, it seems, come at a higher price than others. But if it meant keeping my grandson safe, no cost was too great. After all, that’s what being a grandmother is all about: love, learning, and sometimes, hard-won wisdom.
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