Unlike the hundreds of millions of people who tuned into the Super Bowl Halftime Show for joy and choreography, I had different priorities. I wanted something deeper. Something rooted in the soil. Preferably soil I had personally mowed in an act of quiet cultural bravery.

The Turning Point “All-American” Halftime Show delivered exactly what I needed: forty uninterrupted minutes of sleep. I drifted in and out while Kid Rock appeared to lip-sync his way through a song that sounded like a truck commercial with commitment issues. It blended hip-hop drums, metal guitar, and lyrics about how country he is now, which I assume requires some sort of certification. Somewhere in there, I’m sure an artist paused between lyrics about Friday night drinks and questionable romantic choices to invite us all to spiritual renewal. Nothing pairs with a revival quite like driving a pickup into a field to check for ticks.

I did wake up for Lee Brice and his song “Country Nowadays,” which sounds like it should play at a backyard barbecue but instead feels like a motivational speech from a riding mower. In it, he bravely explains that cutting grass, feeding dogs, and wearing boots are apparently under attack.

This was shocking news. When I cut my grass, my neighbors wave. If I do not cut it, that is when things get tense. Suburbs do not play around when it comes to lawn maintenance. If mowing is rebellion, then my modus operandi is surprisingly supportive of resistance movements.

As the song went on, I started seeing my chores differently. Taking out the trash felt heroic. Grilling a burger felt historic. I had no idea my daily routine qualified as an epic saga, but Lee Brice helped me understand that every time I put on boots, I am basically defending Western civilization.

I am grateful for artists who can take extremely normal activities and frame them like scenes from an action movie. It takes vision to look at feeding your dog and think, this is my Braveheart moment. It takes confidence to stare at a lawn mower and feel persecuted. Without songs like this, I might have continued living peacefully, unaware that my barbecue habits were legendary acts of courage. Now I know better. Now every trip to the mailbox feels like a stand for something bigger.

If you will excuse me, I have to go perform another bold cultural ritual. The trash is waiting.