My Greatest Hit

    The question I always get from people who find out I've written songs for 45 years is "What was your biggest hit?" Its such a difficult question to answer because there are so many ways to measure the success of a song. There are charts that tabulate sales or radio airplay. You could base your answer on how many dollars in royalties have come in. Maybe you would want to consider industry awards a song has won. Nowadays we can talk about how many views or streams a song has. Or maybe a composer's greatest hit is the one that has been recorded the most times.
     For me, all those metrics would indicate a different song. But one kind of success is just impossible to quantify except in how it makes you feel.
     A number of years ago the legendary Bill Anderson and I were scheduled to write one day. Bill has not only had a remarkable career as a recording artist, he's also known far and wide as an emcee for radio and tv shows and a host of the Grand Ole Opry. And, if all of that is not enough, he has written massive hit songs for other artists, too.
     The day of our co-write Bill showed up with a story he'd heard. It was about a WW2 vet who came home and never stopped wearing his old army hat (much to the embarrassment of all his grand kids). When the World War Two Memorial opened in DC he and his grandson took a trip to see it. While there, the old man met a little boy who had lost his father in a more recent war. When the veteran heard the boy's story he walked over and put the hat on the little boy's head and told him he thought he needed it more than him.
     Eventually Billy Ray Cyrus recorded the song. Before his session he called and asked if I would be there when he sang it to help make sure he sang it like we meant it to be sung. Of course, Billy didn't need my help at all. It was just a gesture of kindness.
     When he asked me what I thought about his recording I told him that I was most proud of the fact that I knew my dad, a Navy veteran, would be moved by it. Billy responded "I want you to call me one day and let me ride to Alabama with you to meet him and shake his hand". I still regret never getting around to that before Dad passed.
     Another friend of mine I have written a number of songs with, Michael Peterson, recorded it as well. It seemed to find a heart and take root now and then and, after all, that's what a songwriter hopes for with every song we write.
     Eventually Bill Anderson recorded his own version of the song. A number of people have mentioned hearing one version or another even though none were smash hits on the radio. But Bill makes the song a regular part of his shows and more and more people tell me they heard it and heard I was one of the songwriters. They always tell me about some connection they have to a military person that makes the song meaningful to them.
     Last night Mr. Ed Haley, the man who inspired the story, and his family, were Bill's guests at the Grand Ole Opry. He is 95 years old today. I drove up to Nashville just to be there when Bill recognized him from on stage before his performance of "Old Army Hat". Standing backstage I watched the crowd's reaction. Some smiled and there were some tears. All stood up and cheered. On the face of Mr. Haley was gratitude and pride. It was a special honor that Bill introduced me as his co-writer and had me come out and take a bow. There is no audience more appreciative of country music and the people who make it than the one at the legendary Grand Old Opry.
     So what is my greatest hit? I never know how to answer that. But last night in Nashville at country music's most venerable venue it was a song called "Old Army Hat". It has not made me wealthy or famous but it has certainly reminded me why I've spent 45 years writing songs. Thank you, Bill, for letting me work on it with you. And I especially want to thank you, Mr. Haley. It was an honor and a privilege to shake your hand.

                                                       Bill Anderson, Ed Haley and me

Old Stuff

I think I'm just a time traveler who got stuck in the wrong place somehow. Everything I love seems to be old.
I love old guitars. They have more soul than new ones even though the news ones are often made to more critical specifications. It's kind of like all the notes and chords and vibrations and harmonics that were ever inside them still live
in the wood. You can pick one up and tell if there are more songs and stories that still haven't been discovered.
I scour Craigslist and eBay and Facebook Marketplace and other trading sites looking for old stuff: musical things, recording things, books, guns, fishing things, certain furniture and furnishings and other strange items. I have old stuff everywhere.
I sit for hours at auctions and never bid for anything waiting for the gem that no one else knows is a gem or, at least, wants more than me. I sit in my old jeans, old tee shirts and old boots and watch other people buy old things that don't really appeal to me but I know they like them for the same reasons.
Old things carry the stories of all the hands that have carried and used them. They are worn and smooth and broken in and that very fact tells you what you want to know. It tells you that the thing was good and useful and worked so well it got used over and over and saved and taken care of and guarded. When the other things of our lives get broken and tossed and given away and sold and replaced and stuck away in places that don't matter old things were out being used. They may be cracked and taped and glued and scarred but they still work and, more importantly, they survive because someone sees their value.
I hope I am that kind of old man.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I reckon it would be different for all of us. But I really love October.
First of all, the colors the leaves change to just never cease to amaze me. You would think after 62 fashion shows from the out of doors I would have become desensitized to them. But the oranges and reds are as spectacular every single time I see them.
And sports! College and pro football, the World Series, hockey and basketball starting. A guy can dang near wear a remote control out on an October weekend.
Now when you factor in the long awaited respite from the oppressive temperatures we live with in the summer in the Deep South you've got the piece de resistance. A cool fall day watching a football game with chili on the stove and beautiful colorful trees outside my window is just the best. Especially when its Alabama and they win. What am I talking about? They always win...