The semester here at ETSU has prevented me from posting this anywhere near on time, but I’m determined to keep this up through 2020. So, while I might run behind, I won’t run off.

Again, I begin with the earliest entries from my days at Mars Hill College, when I was a 19-year-old flute major and lived on the second floor in Spilman Hall.

Captain’s Log: Stardates 012.478-012.578 [Tuesday-Wednesday, January 24-25, 1978]

These past two days have been the usual. The only thing out of the ordinary was that yesterday I went to audition for “The New Beginning Singers.” I haven’t gotten word on the results ye but Anna said I did real well.

Today went about the same. I mailed off an application to the Presbytery of Concord, to work at Camp Grier. It would be really great to get a job out there. Tonight, Yogi and I went to see “Heroes.” It is a really good flick.

Well, I’ll inhale a few Z’s right now and resume the log tomorrow night 012.678. . . .

Here are pictures of Yogi and me. Both of us worked at the Mars Hill College radio station. I don’t think I’m at work in my picture, but Yogi definitely is. During our freshman year, he roomed with Phill Shuford, and the two of them were across the hall from Johnny Sawyer and me. I can’t remember his last name or where he was from. Pennsylvania maybe? I remember he had only nine toes because one had been lost in a lawnmower accident.

I don’t know if this visit to see Heroes was the time that the following took place, but I had what was probably my life’s most overtly heroic moment while going to the old Plaza Theatre to see a movie with Yogi. I don’t remember the exact layout of the area in those days, but I know that Yogi and I were walking from our parking space from downhill and to the left of the photograph below. A young woman pulled up and stopped her car just where you see the back of the car in the photo. She got out and went around the back of her car to go to the ticket booth. As she crossed the sidewalk, the car apparently slipped out of PARK or, if in NEUTRAL, the emergency break failed or something. The car began to roll forward toward the downhill slope that led to the police station and courthouse.

Yogi and I saw what was happening and ran forward, just as the passenger-side wheels of the car jumped up on the curb. We thought that when the car hit a metal No Parking sign on the sidewalk it would either stop or slow down enough that we could push from the front to stop it. Yogi approached the front of the passenger side, leaving me the driver’s side. We were wrong about what we thought would happen. The car was one of those large cars of the 1970s, a Buick or something like that. It hit the sign as we put our hands on the front, but it just bent the sign to the ground and kept going. Yogi had to peel off helplessly to the passenger side to get out of the way. The car began to pick up speed as the grade increased, heading straight for a big light pole on the corner above the police station. I ran alongside the car, hoping that it would maintain a more-or-less straight course. In my peripheral vision I could see Yogi standing and watching and the young woman frantically running down the hill behind.

At some point in all this, I realized an older woman was in the passenger seat, and she was screaming, “Stop the car! Stop the car!”

The runaway was about thirty feet from the light pole when I finally got my hand on the handle and pulled the door open and dove in. As the old woman kept screaming, I righted myself in the driver’s seat, took the wheel, guided the vehicle off the sidewalk — just a few feet short of the pole — and braked it to a stop with a screeching of tires that brought a handful of Asheville’s finest running up from the station.

I looked at the old woman and asked if she was all right. She was, and she was very appreciative, as was her daughter when I stood up out of the car. The police were, of course, less appreciative and more suspicious about what was going on. I think I summed it up for them in a few words and turned back up the hill to join Yogi and head for the ticket booth. We didn’t want to be late for our movie.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 012.678 [Thursday, January 26, 1978]

I had my first rehearsal with the New Beginning Singers anoche. Tim Taylor and I are Tenor I. I hope I can stay with this group, and I think I can if they don’t try to press beliefs on me or make me pray or witness. That’s were I get off ’cause the Lord didn’t give me a tounge (whatever) for witness (I think that’s what I mean). Well, I think I’ll try to get ahold of G——— this weekend, unless some miracle happens around here. . . .

I have no real memory of the New Beginning Singers, so maybe I didn’t stay with it for long. (I’m typing this before I continue transcribing, so I might learn more about it later.)

And I need to add tongue to my list of words I couldn’t spell.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 012.778 [Friday, January 27, 1978]

I’m really tired of everyday [sic] being a carbon copy of the last. Hopefully that’ll change next week. . . .

The words every and day should only be one word where used as an adjective: everyday routine, everyday shoes, etc. I make much fun of the regional grocery chain Food City for its slogan “Value Everyday,” which is way wrong. “Everyday Value” would work, but to phrase it like they have it requires “Value Every Day.” Where one refers to something that happens or is present day by day, the phrase should be two words: every day. Obviously, I haven’t always known this. But I learned it and know it now, so I reserve the right — I’ve earned the right — to continue making fun of Food City. (Please read this as I wrote it, with tongue firmly planted in cheek.)

Captain’s Log: Stardate 012.878 [Saturday, January 28, 1978]

Today was a “take it easy” day at home. I’m doing next to nothing, because I know that when Wednesday rolls around it’s “work city” until May. I’m glad classes are starting ’cause I’m really looking forward to this semester.

Tonight I went to Reynolds to watch Joey play ball. He did well and scored 10 points. The team was right with the Rockets until Todd got thrown out of the game in the 2nd quarter, and that was worse ’cause it wasn’t even Todd’s fault. Oh well. . . .

These days I was finding so boring were days when Mars Hill College was in its January “mini-mester” — a two-three week period when students took one special-interest course. I took handbells. The Wednesday I was anxious for was the day when the regular spring semester began.

The Reynolds Rockets was the favorite team of my friend (and preacher) Mike Tweed (and his family). I’m sure I was hanging out with them. Reynolds was — still is — a much bigger school than Madison.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 012.978 [Sunday, January 29, 1978]

Well, here I am, back at school. I went with the Youth Group to see the “Late Great Planet Earth” this evening. I had P——— with me in the car and we had a pretty good time. Maybe I’ll ask her out soon.

Richard Dreyfuss got “Best Actor for a Comedy or Musical” in the Golden Globe Awards tonight, Primo!!!

Tomorrow I go to register for the spring semester and I hope I don’t have much to change. . . .

The last time I saw P——— was when I played a house concert in Durham, North Carolina, on Saturday, December 1, 2012. She showed up out of the blue, and Leesa and I enjoyed seeing her. She doesn’t walk planet Earth any longer, and that’s all I’ll say about her.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 013.078 [Monday, January 30, 1978]

The Lord has been so good to me! While it seems all the people around me have to go through the hassel [sic] of corrective registration, all of my classes were accepted. I still think I’ll drop Golf. I’m really gonna be busy.

I’ve gotten off my application to Camp Grier and have also written Camp Cheerio. Hopefully, one of these will provide me with some exciting summer work.

I got a letter from Kelly today saying that she wants me to come down as soon as possible. I suppose it’ll be the weekend of the 24th, 25th, and 26th [of February 1978]. I’m really looking forward to it.

Two years later, I was 21 and making my first sojourn in Nashville, a music business major at Belmont College.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 012.680 [Saturday, January 26, 1980]

It’s Saturday and the morning of my Opryland audition. I’m up now trying to get my voice loosened. I probably won’t go over there ’till [sic] about noon. I know there are prayer at home about this and I have turned everything over to the will of God. I’m gonna do my best with all of the talents He gave me and the decision is up to Him.

It has been a good week. I had a studio test Tuesday; Wednesday, I don’t think I did much; Thursday I went to the Jolly Ox with Taylor and his sister where I met a lot of people, including the band, the KNott Brothers, two of which go to school at Belmont and the other sang at Opryland a couple of summers ago when I was there. They were really good. Yesterday, I think I aced a CMH test and last night I ate at Friday’s with Beth Forbis, prima-donna Southern Bell [sic] from the trip to Europe last summer.

Today I’m trying to remain calm for the task at hand. I think voice is where I should have been all along. It’s my natural gift. The flute makes me work so I think studying it was good. I was never technically prepared for any of my flute things, but in voice I’m ready . . .

Captain’s Log: Stardate 012.680 [supplemental entry]

Well, I suffered my first let down in the “big city” today . . . one of the biggest let downs of my life. Obviously, I didn’t make Opryland. I did my best, not that I don’t think I was good enough, I just think they pretty well had all they wanted and didn’t need any more of my style.

It was kind of funny thought . . . I was getting into it as usual and I hear this small voice “Michael” and I suddenly realized they were through listening. I said OK. It was like Monty Python “Thank you”. I don’t mind saying I was crushed and hardly knew what to do. I just felt like God had turned his back and walked off on me. I forgot who I was and though and and did somethings [sic] I shouldn’t have. Then I finally realized that there is something better down the road for me. NOt having that job will give me more time this summer, I only pray the Lord will let me have a regular park job. Extra time will be good for school, peddling songs, etc. Maybe the Reasons auditions will turn out a bit better. The Opryland experience will be good for a joke someday should I ever make it big and play Opryland. It also gives me greater incentive to go on and, thought I hate to say it, shove their audition down their throat . . .

Looking back on this Opryland failure, I’ve realized a couple of things about it. First, given the nature of its shows, Opryland wasn’t really looking for singers (or songwriters) but for performers. A singing actor or a dancer with a good voice — even if he couldn’t play guitar — had a much greater chance of being hired than I did. I’ve never been that kind of performer, and as far as “putting on a show” goes, I’ve never been much at that anyway, even after all these years on stage.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 012.880 [Monday, January 28, 1980]

Today has been a good day. School was the usual descent [sic]. Tonight was the good time. I went to hear Christine [Wyrtzen] and Phil Johnson in concert tonight. I talked to Phil for about 10 minutes or so and I was really proud of myself. Putting myself through the Opryland audition was good for me ’cause I started not to go speak to him but then I decided that would be foolish so I went. He talked about his good friends Dallas and Tim and that flipped me out. I also learned that the way to get into gospel writing [is that] I’m gonna have to quit sitting waiting for inspiration are read the Word! Also, Dallas will be here July 4 or so . . .

Again, two years pass to find me 23 and living back in North Carolina, at the homeplace in Walnut.

Captain’s Log Stardate 8201.28 [Thursday, January 28, 1982]

I’m feeling a little better since my last entry [8201.21 / Thursday, January 21, 1982]. Mom and Dad have been at Jerry’s so I’ve had peace and quiet solitude here. Still, things are about the same as they were. I’m sure I’ll make it.

K——— was home this past weekend and we had a pretty good time together. We didn’t do a lot, mainly just sat around each other’s house.

Yesterday, or last night, I finished One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich so that may have been what has helped me feel better. It is such a powerful story of everyday survival and I’m very glad I read it.

I started working on a song tonight called “First Love” about the fun and mystery of it. However, it brings up the question, again, about what I should and should not write. I don’t want to write anything to lead kids or anyone else astray or anything that might be taken wrong. I want to write this song because I think it will be good but I’m going to have to be careful. It’s no secret to me that teen-age sex is a reality (I know it first hand), however, I don’t want the song to sound like I’m encouraging it so I’d better take it slow and be sure it say[s] only what it ought to.

From what I hear, Earl will be leaving for Europe tomorrow. I don’t know if that means he’ll be back later or not. I only hope he got Ron’s and my money fixed before he leaves. He’ll be going with our man from Townhouse so I hope they make big plans for me.

Meanwhile, Earl spent last weekend with Jerry Reed on a house boat and they listened to my stuff and from what I hear, Jerry really liked it. I’m not supposed to know this but JR also said that if things worked out well with the record he would like to take me on tour with him when he goes on the road this fall. This news flash may also be part of my feeling better these days.

Tomorrow Ron and I will be going to Daton, Ga. [sic] to pick up Shana so Ron can keep her for a couple of weeks. It doesn’t look like he and Patty can make amends.

Time for my devotional . . .

From my days at Mars Hill College, I had the idea of being a college professor (at some point) in mind. But I knew that I would have to go back to school to do that. And I intended to. But such tempting — distracting — little tidbits of hope as the Jerry Reed bit above always had me feeling like the beautiful highway to fame and fortune began just around the next bend in my dirt road. I’d already quit in the middle of my first semester at UNCA (Fall 1980), and I thought it probably wouldn’t be good to do that again. So, I never got started back to school.

Captain’s Log Stardate 8301.25 [Tuesday, January 25, 1983]

I didn’t realize it had been so long since my last entry. A lot of things have come and gone but the song remains the same. I’ve been in New York to meet people at Audio and see Tina and have a photo session . . . Cindy and Lynn and I set up house . . . I went home for Thanksgiving and turned 24 . . . Jack came right after the holiday and stayed a week then I went to California for 10 days . . . Tina, Linda and I joined the CA kids. My last weekend, Jack and I went to San Diego and stayed with Joy (what a crazy girl). We, Jack and I, spent a day in Mexico (Tijuana & Ensenada), then spent the next afternoon at the zoo with Joe and that night we had a real party all over San Diego with Earl Parker and a friend whose name escapes me right now [Chris] . . . I came back to Nashville and then went home for Christmas . . . When I came back I filed bankruptsy [sic]. I’ve been working at Earl’s office a lot and writing a good deal also. I think there are 11 new songs. Earl is in Europe at MIDEM but I don’t know where my record is at the moment, somewhere in the hot little hands of CBS I think. It is all just too hard to follow. There is Audio Records with Earl, Marty, Helen, and Jack W, and I don’t know who else . . . There is Zoo York records headed by the famous discoverer of talent, John Hammond . . . finally there is CBS. There is really no telling when “Fiesta” will be out but I continually wonder what kind of response it will get from the public, if it gets any at all. It’s too far out of my hands now . . .

Tina, Jack, and Linda are longtime friends met in that fateful European summer of 1979. Lynn and Cindy were singing sisters I shared a house with in Hendersonville, Tennessee, as I began my second and longer sojourn in Nashville.

Here are a couple of photos. First, from a Nashville photo session from around this time. The photo session in the post above took place in a loft in New York City. The photographer thought I was coming across as too tense, so he had me smoke some marijuana to relax. That must have worked, because I remember he even talked me into taking my shirt off for a few shots. All remained innocent — except for the smoking of pot, of course. But my naiveté was showing.

Here’s a picture that blends two parts of my life at that time. I’m with Earl Richards here, in his office, and I’m wearing a souvenir from my journey into Mexico with Jack.

Moving on, I was 26 years and a couple of months old in early 1985.

Captain’s Log Stardate 8501.27 [Sunday, January 27, 1985]

Since 8501.11 [Friday, January 11, 1985] there have been some interesting things going on in my general life. I attended the Music City News Songwriters awards with a girl named Deborah Doran who works for Alabama’s manager, Dale Morris. The day of the show, lead singer Randy Owen decided not to give away his comp tickets to friends and gave them to Deborah. We had second row seats. The show was live to Nashville and taped for other cities. I talked to Mom tonight and the show was on there last night. I was on TV several times and she was quite excited.

Last weekend, 8501.19 [Saturday, January 19, 1985], Noel, Mike Scalf and I went all the way to Greensboro, NC to catch another show by Mr. Bruce Springsteen and what a show it was. I think I’ll always remember the solo accoustic [sic] version of “No Surrender”. I spent the evening before the show with Joe, Carol, and John Johnson and we spent the night after the show a[t] Joe & Carol’s place in Salisbury. When we got up the weather had turned foul so we had to put Noel’s truck in 4-wheel drive and head home. By the way, we were dashing through the snow while the 49’ers were defeating the Dolphins 38-16 in the Superbowl. The happening that brought the most change to my immediate surroundings was Earl’s decision to move the office and I had to find a new place to live. Fortunately, Pat Gossum moved out of Noel’s house in Brentwood so there was an easy opening. Today was my first full day at 7036 Concord Rd. in Brentwood. I really like these guys alot [sic] but I’m afraid trying not to disturb them is going to inhibit my writing. We’ll just have to wait and see. Meanwhile, back in NC, Dad had an operation last week to unclog one of the main arteries to his brain. He had been experiencing some numbness in his limbs for the last few weeks and this has hopefully corrected that. He sounded fine on the phone tonight. Ernie was back in the hospital recently and making a slow recovery from intestinal blockage. She’s had a lot of problems recently so the family decided Mama Reeves would have to go to a nursing home. I’ve been hoping this would never happen, praying she would pass on before this point could be reached. I guess it must be some will of the Lord’s. She is in a home only 3 minutes from Mac in Shelby so she’ll probably get excellent care. He has several church members there so the staff will always be on their toes knowing that he could walk in at anytime. My fear is that I shall never see my Mama Reeves alive again. It is difficult . . .

Again, sadly, I have no real memory of Deborah Doran or Dale Morris or attending the Music City Songwriters awards ceremony, which I must have been really jazzed about. I heard a story that at one point Alabama’s producer Harold Shedd was interested in my music. But then he found out that I was involved with Earl Richards and apparently that involvement made him disinclined to pursue me any further than his initial interest. Maybe it was through Deborah Doran and/or Dale Morris that my music briefly made it to Shedd’s ears.

Moving on, I was 27 years old as I lived through events of January 1986.

Captain’s Log Stardate 8601.28 [Tuesday, January 28, 1986]

This morning I got a call from Noel between 11:30 and 12:00N wanting confirmation on his hearing that the space shuttle had blown up in take off this morning. I got up and turned on the TV and there it was. I tuned into the section where a camera was on the faces of the parents of Kristie McCauliffe, a school teacher from Concord, New Hampshire who was the first civilian to go into space. Her parents were watching the liftoff and I don’t really think they knew what had happened. The shuttle made it up a few miles before the explosion. It’s odd, because all morning my sleep was troubled by a dream that people I knew were on an airplane coming into some airport and I was meeting them. I watched as the plane caught a wing on the ground or something and smashed up into this huge building. I found out my friends were not on that plane but I still woke up with a great sadness and then I learned about the shuttle. I am saddened. I think I’ll go for a drive in the country today, down to Franklin maybe . . . The good news today is that R——— gave birth to a son and mother and child are doing fine. He was born early in the morning. I can’t remember her husband’s last name but it’s easy to remember the name given the baby. It is called Robert Cody. I just realized that baby could so easily have been mine. Am I an idiot? I don’t know. She was pretty but young and too close to my situation. Was it my one chance? I hope not. Anyway I am very happy for the whole family. It’s one more thing to come between Earl and getting his business done. I do feel like it’s over between us except for the actual break. I believe that I will make it one way or another but I’m not so sure about him. I would still like nothing better than for us to happen together . . .

When I wrote “that baby could so easily have been mine,” I didn’t mean to imply that any physical act potentially leading to fatherhood had taken place. My feeling — accurate or not — was that R——— had a bit of a crush on me, so that phrase meant to capture the possibilities such a crush might have led to.

It’s snowing outside the window of my office as I write this. I don’t expect it to amount to much, but it’s certainly cold out. Here’s a picture from January of ’85, I think, taken from the porch of the homeplace in Walnut.