Here’s a passage I ran across in my reading of Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces:

The inflated ego of the tyrant is a curse to himself and his world–no matter how his affairs may seem to prosper. Self-terrorized, fear-haunted, alert at every hand to meet and battle back the anticipated aggressions of his environment, which are primarily the reflections of the uncontrollable impulses to acquisition within himself, the giant of self-achieved independence is the world’s messenger of disaster, even though, in his mind, he may entertain himself with humane intentions. Wherever he sets his hand there is a cry (if not from the housetops, then–more miserably–within every heart): a cry for the redeeming hero, the carrier of the shining blade, whose blow, whose touch, whose existence, will liberate the land.

Joseph Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces, 11.

Campbell — in 1949 — accurately describes the political situation in the (not-so) United States of America and, indeed, much of the rest of the Western world:

. . . schism in the soul, schism in the body social, will not be resolved by any scheme of return to the good old days (archaism), or by programs guaranteed to render an ideal projected future (futurism), or even by the most realistic, hardheaded work to weld together again the deteriorating elements. Only birth can conquer death–the birth, not of the old things again, but of something new. Within the soul, within the body social, there must be–if we are to experience long survival–a continuous ‘recurrence of birth’ . . . to nullify the unremitting recurrences of death.

Joseph Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces, 11-12.

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.

My friends at Riverside Taphouse booked me for my second show in their great place in Elizabethton, Tennessee. This was my second appearance there. While I’ve enjoyed both, I think this one was in some ways better than the first, due to the fact that I was set up in their barroom rather than in a tent out back. (But don’t get me wrong — the tent had its charms.)

The Riverside Taphouse is owned by my former ETSU honors student Cheri Tinney and her husband Michael, who are terrific folks and terrific hosts. I wish them all the best in this brave endeavor.

I used my performer’s bar tab to relish three glasses of Highland’s Oatmeal Stout over the course of the two-set evening, and I enjoyed playing a new song — “So Much Depends” (not yet recorded).

Although I didn’t know any of the Taphouse’s regulars, they were mostly welcoming. (See picture at bottom for why I say “mostly”; the young man did, however, like my coat.) And I was pleased to have a number of friendly faces in the crowd: Leesa (of course), Sam & Sharon, Teresa & Randy, Phyllis & David, Susan & Michael, Theresa & Tim, Jen & Jeff (both former honors students as well), Loretta, Scott, Tom, and Joe — I hope I didn’t forget anybody.

First Set:

• The Light in Your Eyes
• Genesis Road
• Fiesta
• There Was Always a Train
• Heart of Gold
• The Street I Live On
• Empty Islands
• The Bells of Vimperk
• So Much Depends
• Jamboree

Second Set:

• She’s a Wild One
• Best I’ve Ever Seen
• Brandy
• You’ve Got Something I Need
• Complaints
• Dizzy from the Distance
• Fresh Horses
• Lean on Me
• Rain on the River
• Homecoming

Unless you’re like the guy below, you can check out these songs — most of them — on my Soundcloud page.

I’ll begin again back in the days of Mars Hill College. In January 1978, I was 19 years old and a flute major. Recently on Facebook I became friends with my high school band director, Bill Stell. He gave me the opportunity to play flute when the band program began at Madison High School when I was in the 10th grade. I wanted to play drums, but Mr. Stell just said no (as I remember it). He wanted me to play tuba (actually sousaphone, I guess) because I have thick lips. I remember telling him that I would but that I would like to buy a flute through the music program Dunham’s Music offered. So, I got my flute and learned it at home while listening to Jethro Tull. Over the next few weeks, the sousaphones that were on order for the new program didn’t come and didn’t come. Mr. Stell finally said that he was tired of seeing me sit around during band and do nothing, adding that I should bring in my flute just to have something to do instead of being a “limp dishrag somebody threw across a chair.” I brought the flute in, and that was that — I was a flutist-in-the-making.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 011.778 [Tuesday, January 17, 1978]

Today: No different from the rest. I did go to the music building and practice for an hour-and-a-half. Then I talked to A——— for a while; she’s really nice. Tomorrow I’ll probably practice two hours . . . .

A——— was the pianist — also a freshman — who accompanied my flute pieces that weren’t written for solo flute.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 011.878 [Wednesday, January 18, 1978]

I’m so bored. Watch TV and lay around, that’s no fun. Tom came up tonight which helped out the day . . . .

Tom DuVall was a high school friend. We went through periods of playing music together, which was always fun. I remember a time when we sat at his house and for some reason we were trying to whistle in harmony. We couldn’t do it. Not because we couldn’t do it, but because as soon as we got it right we’d break out into smiles. You can’t whistle when you’re smiling! We once wrote a song together: “Don’t Keep Running Away.” And the opening story in my manuscript collection of short fiction is based on an experience Tom had one winter’s night when he was coming from his house in Marshall to mine in Walnut.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 011.978 [Thursday, January 19, 1978]

Today was fairly decent. This morning we had some of the most beautiful snow, there were flakes as big as a fifty-cent piece. Other than that the day was the usual. Kenny and me went to see “The Late Great Planet Earth.” It was good and was pretty revealing about the future of our world here. Mike & Bobbie recommended we read the book to really get down to the meaning. I’ve also got another book called “Before the Last Battle” which I feel inspired to read now. Tomorrow’s Friday and I can’t wait to get done for the weekend . . . .

I’m guessing that I was referring to Kenny Ray, a friend I went to school with from Walnut’s short summer kindergarten through high school graduation. I thought he’d gone to UNC-Chapel Hill, but maybe he was with me at Mars Hill. Or maybe UNC hadn’t started its spring semester yet. Funny how the memory completely lets go of some things and not others.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 012.078 [Friday, January 20, 1978]

It’s finally Friday and I’m goin’ home. I’m looking forward to a pretty easy weekend . . . .

Looking back, it doesn’t seem like the weeks that January were particularly difficult. How much difference could the weekend make?

Captain’s Log: Compiled Stardates 012.178-012.278 [Saturday-Sunday, January 21-22, 1978]

Well I had a real good weekend. Snow kept the roads pretty bad so I didn’t get to go much of any place so I just hung around the house and practiced quite a bit.

My biggest event this weekend was getting a letter from Kelly Brady. She wants me to come and spend the weekend with her sometime. I’m really looking forward to that. She’s such a nice girl in many more ways than uno!

I’ve got this strange urge to work on A———, my accompanist for last jury. You might call it more of a hunch I guess. Well I believe I’ll retire for the night.

Kelly Brady was a girl I met when I was a boy in the White Water Band. She was from Greensboro, but we — the band and I — met her and a lot of other girls one wild summer week of playing a few nights at a campground in Myrtle Beach. You can read about it here. It is the stuff of legend — in my mind at least.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 012.378 [Monday, January 23, 1978]

It’s been an easy day. I guess the biggest thing is what I’m looking forward to doing. They are going to Kelly’s for a weekend, going to George and Betty’s for a week, working at a summer camp, and going to Minnesota in August . . . .

I remember going to Kelly’s in Greensboro. It was the weekend of an ice storm in that area. While I can hardly even recall what Kelly looked like (very blonde hair, I know) or what we did that weekend, I can remember watching the ice grow into a fantastic shape streaming from the sideview mirror as I drove I-40 East toward her place.

I probably went to George and Betty’s in Elizabeth City for a week at some point, but I didn’t work at the summer camp or go to Minnesota for a long time after that.

At 19 in 1978, I seem to have had no idea that two years later — at 21 in January 1980 — I’d be living in Nashville, Tennessee.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 012.080 [Sunday, January 20, 1980]

Well, I’m back in Nashville after a weekend at home. Saturday I saw Ed, Keith, Phill, and spent most of the day in Asheville with K———.

I had a joyfully uneventful trip back tonight and spent most of the time, after I got here, studying Accounting and will soon start CMH. I hope this will be a good week for the kid . . .

And two years after being a 21-year-old Belmont College music business student, I was 23 and singer-songwriter and newly signed with a small Nashville music publishing and production company.

Captain’s Log Stardate 8201.19 [Tuesday, January 19, 1982]

Delays and more delays! Earl has had problems with collecting money so as a result both mine and Ron’s checks have bounced. Then, in trying to right the whole thing, recording was postponed[;] now things look like it will be February before we start. I’m being patient enough I guess but we’ve had snows and ice storms so I’ve been cooped up here at the house for quite a while and now have a definite case of cabin fever; I’m stark raving stir crazy. I keep thinking about the album and what I’m gonna be able to get on tit and what it’s gonna come out sounding like . . . I’m about to explode! I’ve almost finished a rocker called “Some Kind of Magic” and I feel I’d like to record it; if need be in the place of “Fallin’ For You Again”. Also, there is a new slow ballad called “Just Can’t Find the Words” and I’d like to put it on the album. So many to choose from now that I cannot allow, if at all possible, anything outside of my own to show up on the record.

Mom is better these days and I hope is continuing to improve. I don’t want to talk about it much.

The romantic front is bleak as ever. C——— is the only one near and of course there is no future for that other than the great platonic relationship we have now. Everyone else I know is so far away. There’s a girl in Richmond, in New York City, in Toronto, in LA . . . I feel totally alone now and see no way out at this time because I don’t play the singles game and don’t have any oppurtunity [sic] to meet anyone at all. So, here sit I, the lonely man songs are made of but I try not to write sad songs so much anymore because that’s not what I want to do for people. Sure, they need sad songs to relate to and know others feel the same way but they also need the happy and hopeful to make them forget and know better day[s] are coming. All that aside, I am still a lonely heart, just me and my songs and my albums.

On the religious front, I feel there is some sort of battle raging over my soul. I keep wanting to really sit down and sort out my feelings toward God and Jesus, and to rethink my priorities a bit . . . a lot. There are times when I’m afraid that music and the things associated with it are becoming a god to me, obstructing my view of my true Father and my Savior Jesus the Christ. It is a great need of mine to stop and think this through but I can’t seem to stop my mind racing this way and that to think at all. I just hope the Lord understands and gives me time to come together. I know it’ll be alright . . .

Captain’s Log Stardate 8201.21 [Thursday, January 21, 1982]

“The Waiting is the hardest part” . . . TOM PETTY and waiting is all I seem to be doing these days; waiting to finish songs; waiting to start my album; waiting to get my money; waiting for love; waiting for the tomorrow that things will get better. It is said tomorrow never comes but I hope this time it will at least show itself. As I write this, Earl is trying to get my and Ron’s money back together, after which (hopefully it will be after the money is taken care of), he will be leaving for MIDEM ’82 in Europe (business) and he’ll be gone for 11 days. So that means if he leaves as he plans on 8201.25, he won’t return until 8202.06 which in turn means it will be at least that long before I can go to Nashville to start my life.

I have a lot of fear about this whole life. First, I fear what my music will turn out as in comparison w/ what I have heard it in my soul as being. I’m not sure Earl will want what I want and as a result, since he’s the boss, my music may soon be less my music. Second, I fear playing to the acceptance of the public: what will their reaction be if any? When the single of “Daisy” goes out, will anyone care at all for the heart and soul of my child? Can I accept the fact that it probably won’t go to #1, that it might not even make the HOT 100 or that it may not eve be played at all. Can I be satisfied with what does or does not happen? Third, I fear the stage, not the performing but the relating, no not really even the relating but rather the entertaining. Sure I can entertain my circle of friends but that’s easy because the[y] love me for myself and my music for being mine. Can I step out front and take a song or story and make people laugh or cry? Make them feel joy? pain? soothing? exhilaration? Fourth, I fear longevity. Can I write enough good songs to successfully sustain a career for 5 years? 10? 20 or 30? Fifth and last, I fear myself. I am very weak and I am afraid I might all too easily get caught up in myself, my music, my public, and/or “the business”. Might I become to[o] caught up in these things and their “busy-ness” and forget who I am and, more importantly, whose I am?

I fear all these things but not as much as I fear failure before even beginning. I don’t want to become a bitter, reclusive, untrusting soul at the tender age of 23. I feel so destined for all the good things I could dream of, could I accept the loss or alteration of those dreams.

With things like they are here at home coupled with the waitings and fears for my future, I feel I am about to explode and sometimes I wish I could and would . . .

Midem is described in this way: “Launched in 1967, Midem is dedicated to helping the music industry and its partners develop business and creativity by bringing together the key players of the music ecosystem over four days in Cannes.”

Although “Daisy” was the first song to catch the ears of people in Nashville, “Fiesta” was the one that emerged from the recording sessions to be the single.

Five years later, in January 1987, I was 28 years old, the age my son Raleigh is right now.

Captain’s Log Stardate 8701.18 [Sunday, January 18, 1987]

Unfortunately again I have let time pass between entries but things have been pretty even so I guess it’s OK. Things are going well. The holidays were fun and low key which is the way I like it these days. I mainly just did the family thing at Christmas and hung around with K——— a little. Sometimes I find it disappointing that I am not turned on by her. We are good friends which is most but not all of what really matters in life-long love. I thought about Leesa an awful lot while I was home but I did not make contact with her other than saying “Hello” through Wayne and Walda and sending her a card. I know that would have great difficulty working out if we were both free to try it but I’m haunted by the big question, “What would sex have been like with someone you love and are attracted to that much?” I hope I learn the answer one day but I don’t expect it to be from her. I did get another song from the deal, “The Best I’ve Ever Seen”. I really like it. It was also based partly on emotions felt as I finished another Larry McMurtry book Leaving Cheyenne. What a great writer and story!

The band is coming together slowly. We’ve got Ron Harvey in as bass player. It feels good and we will soon start woodshedding material.

Dad had chest pains a couple of weeks ago and will be having a triple by-pass surgery on Wednesday so I’ll spend next week in N. Carolina. I’m confident that things will work out well but there is a slightly hair-raising sensation about the whole ordeal.

I am still remaining in touch with A——— and J———. Hopefully there will be more options come down the line this year, even though I’d marry J——— in a heartbeat given the chance.

Christian artist Margaret Becker recorded a rewritten version of “Break the Silence” as the title of her LP debut. I wish now I’d gotten more involved with the rewrite but I blew it off . . .

So, I guess Dad had heart surgery on January 21, 1987. He was 55 years old. Wow! That’s six years younger than I am now. Somewhere along the line, somebody told me that such by-pass surgeries last about 10 years and then have to be redone in some way. Dad walked on just short of ten years after this surgery, on Thursday, November 7, 1996.

To end on a better note than the above, I did, in fact, learn what sex was like with somebody that I love and am powerfully attracted to. And it was, in fact, Leesa.

The website of Knoxville’s eclectic radio station WDVX describes Wordstream: The Weekly Writer’s Voice this way: “The Weekly Writer’s Voice takes places every Friday, 12-1pm, on the WDVX stage in the Knoxville Visitors Center. The show features poets, novelists, play excerpts, and more with hosts Linda Parsons and Stellasue Lee.” Sometime in the middle of 2019, my colleague Alan Holmes shared (via Facebook) Wordstream‘s announcement that it was beginning to book programs for 2020. I immediately contacted Linda Parsons, a poet I’d heard much about from Alan and other ETSU colleagues, to enquire about being booked. Linda responded — with poet Stellasue Lee — quickly and enthusiastically and generously. We set up 17 January 2020 as a good day for the show — if the winter weather cooperated. I would play some songs and read some from Gabriel’s Songbook, and Alan would come along to play rhythm guitar alongside me.

I found Linda and Stellasue to be just as gracious, enthusiastic, and supportive in person as they’d been via email. They made Alan and me welcome. And a youngster named Johnny — a Pellissippi State CC student — made us sound good!

We began with some songs:

• “Landscapes”
• “Genesis Road”
• “She’s a Wild One”
• “Big Shoes” — I don’t often get to do “Big Shoes” live, because most places I play are a bit too loud for it. But the Wordstream audience was filled with listening ears, which I so appreciated.
• “Jamboree”

We’d planned to do “Rain on the River,” “Complaints,” and “The Bells of Vimperk,” but when we finished “Jamboree” I looked at my watch and saw that it was time to begin the reading portion of the show.

I read two sections from Gabriel’s Songbook:

• from “Chapter 4: Dancing on Air”: selected passages leading up to Gabriel’s writing of “Best I’ve Ever Seen,” which Alan and I then played.
• from “Chapter 21: Homecoming”: Gabriel sings his song “Homecoming” during the offertory for the homecoming service at the church where he grew up. Alan and I played the song, and then I read a passage featuring Gabriel and mountain fiddler Delbert Gunter. The scene takes place first in the Piney Ridge Methodist Church, across the river from Runion, and second behind the church, at the edge of its cemetery — all modeled very much after the Walnut Methodist Church and its cemetery. (Check out this homemade video of “Homecoming” that features many of the real-life things the novel is about.)

We ended the program with “There Was Always a Train.”

Linda and Stellasue treated Alan and me to an after-show lunch at Babalu in downtown Knoxville. Back at the car, which was parked beneath a wonderful mural, we took one more picture before Alan and I hit the road back to Johnson City.

Thanks again to Linda Parsons and Stellasue Lee for being such gracious hosts. I’m happy to return to the Wordstream stage any time!

Leesa and I just returned, on Tuesday, from a brief run to Nashville, where we visited friends and she strolled with me down Memory Lane — otherwise known, in this instance, as Music Row. We’d driven up and down 16th and 17th Avenues before, and I’d pointed out this place or that, but, of course, in those situations the place has already gone past before the significance or even the identification of it fully registers. She liked walking around with me, where we could stop in front of a house where I used to live and take a couple of pictures.

I took a deep dive into memory during the two-day visit, and the sense of it has stayed with me through these revisitations to my journals from 1978 (when Nashville still lay hidden over the horizon), from 1980, 1985, and 1986.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 011.078 [Tuesday, January 10, 1978]

Here is today: got up _ wasted time _ handbell class _ wasted time _ band _ went home _ and here I am back at school. It’s not been very exciting to say the least, but the Lord has been very good to me in all he has given.

I think I’ve figured my hesitation with G——— out. It’s like dating someone new and old at the same time. It’s easy to date someone completely new because each experience is getting to know them. With G———, I’ve known her for a long time, yet I’m having to build a whole new relationship; kind of hard for me at least. . . .

Captain’s Log: Stardate 011.178 [Wednesday, January 11, 1978]

Time passes on here at MHC but there’s nothing to pass the time, if ya know what I mean. We sat around tonight looking for something to do and might well have gone crazy had it not been for some descent [sic] TV. Oh well, all that’s behind now and I’ll get some sleep and do it all again tomorrow. Nothing profound tonight except that I’m alive, well, and living in. . . .

I learned in this gathering of journal entries that I had difficulties spelling decent and loneliness. They’re good words, but I consistently misspelled them.

Captain’s Log: Compiled Stardates 011.278-011.478 [Thursday-Saturday, January 12-14, 1978]

Never have I seen such uneventful days! I had more than this to do last year when I was at home for a month with not even a class to go to. I guess I could get out and sled, play pinball, or hang around at the snackbar, but there’s no use knocking myself out if I don’t really want to. I’ll almost be glad to get back into a full schedule of classes. Well, I’m gonna go home now. . . .

Captain’s Log: Stardate 011.578 [Sunday, January 15, 1978]

Well, today was Super Bowl Sunday. I went to Mike’s and watched Dallas beat Denver 27-10. Last night, it snowed about 6 inches on top of the two or three we already had, so we didn’t have SS and church this morning.

Last night, as Joe and I walked around in the snow, I lost all of my keys. That’s the breaks. . . .

Captain’s Log: Stardate 011.678 [Monday, January 16, 1978]

Another day gone with the wind. Yogi and I went to Marshall to have a couple of keys made then went to Asheville to the drug store. Later on, there was a knock on the door and it was Egbert with my keys. He said they were in Cloice’s truck but I am positive I had them at Steve’s, long after I was in Cloice’s truck. Therefore, I firmly believe the Lord just laid them in there in answer to my prayers.. Thank you Lord.

Tonight was no big deal. We saw a Woody Allen movie, “Take the Money and Run” which was pretty good.

I’ve got to find a girl and I pray that I find a good’un. . . . for he is able to give exceedingly, abundantly above all that we can ask or think. . . .

“Egbert” was the pet name for my younger cousin Mark Plemmons. His father’s name, Cloice, is pronounced, KLO-iss, for those of you who’ve never run across that name before. I have no idea where it came from, and I don’t remember ever having met another so named. The Nashville apartment house I moved to in January 1980 at some point had a Clovis, but that’s more common, I think.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 011.080 [Thursday, January 10, 1980]

Today has been a good day up until now at least. I had good classes this morning and all day actually. I spent my free time today doing a lead sheet for “Rhymes.” I’m gonna try to keep one of those projects going all the time. Tonight I studied accounting ’til I was blue in the face. Then I tried to write some but I was burnt, especially when I went to the ‘frig’ [sic] to get my last MD and it was gone. I’ve tried to tell myself, maybe I had the last today but I know it was there.

Well, I go to chapel tomorrow. I hope I’m sitting with some descent [sic] people.

I’ve been thinking about K——— and folks at home alot lately so tomorrow I go home. K——— sure has been on my mind alot lately. Now that I’m away from her it may be that I’ll fall in love with her. I’ll probably take her out this weekend. Better get some rest for the trip . . . when my life and writing is going wrong I think of Dallas and “I’ve never seen the Righteous forsaken”

• MD = Mountain Dew
• “chapel” was a regular, required gathering of Belmont College students for religious (Baptist) instruction. We had assigned seats, and attendance was taken. I remember mine being near the middle of a row near the back right of the auditorium. I thought the requirement was a bit archaic; Mars Hill College was also a Baptist institution, but I think its chapel requirement was long gone by the time I began there.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 011.180-011.380 [Friday-Sunday, January 11-13, 1980]

Today was . . . Wait, I have a whole weekend to report. I made the long drive home Friday OK. I spent the evening at home with the Plemmons’ [sic]. That night Joey said he and Charl were having problems but I think things have worked out OK[.] Saturday I spent most of the day with Ed, Laura, and Keith. I talked to Jobie, Stan, and Karen too. The boys from 013 — shdoobee went to see the Electric Horseman and it was really good.

Today was great until I left Mike’s at about 4:10. The drive was bad enough but when I had car trouble it was really bad. I got scared and nervous, then missed home and friends, then started crying. But as the tears fell I smiled as I remembered the words of Dallas Holm’s “He is There.” It was a good experience. I had a lump of lonliness [sic] in my throat for a long time after I got here but the Lord and my accounting homework got rid of that . . . sleepy now, ciao . . .

As Leesa and I were driving to Nashville on Sunday the 12th, we were descending the western side of the Cumberland Plateau as I told her about a night back in the ’80s when I was having car trouble in that area. The experience of January 13th described above seems exactly like what i was telling her. I was barely 21 and in the middle of seemingly nowhere. No cell phone. I remember the scare and the tears. But maybe I had two such experiences over the years of traveling that road, because one detail is missing. I don’t remember the assistance of the Dallas Holm song, but maybe that was the case. What I do remember distinctly — which doesn’t appear in the above relation — is that at my worst moment I looked off into the darkness north of the interstate and saw a brightly lit cross shining from some distant hilltop (or hillside). I calmed down. My car quit its misbehaving. I made it to Nashville safe and sound and thankful.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 011.480 [Monday, January 14, 1980]

All in all a good day today. I went to chapel and then had a good accounting class and Mulloy’s class was OK too. I spent most of the afternoon, it seemed on the pay phone, I go to get mine Wednesday and they’ll hook it up Thursday.

I got the pictures I’ve been looking for today and they were the best ever of 013. I can’t wait ’til the boys see them.

I called Dad tonight and he said to bring the car on home Friday so I’m gonna get out of my 1:00 class so I can get almost there before dark. Maybe I can get Joe and Steve to meet me in Knoxville and follow me in.

Oh yes, Pam called me yesterday. It was good to talk to her. She said they lost the tape and I just hope and pray it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.

I’ve got my longest day tomorrow so I better get some sleep . . .

I’m thinking that the “Pam” referenced in this entry was Pam Furman, one of the California girls with me on the amazing AESU trip from the previous summer (1979).

Captain’s Log: Stardate 011.580 [Tuesday, January 15, 1980]

I just wanted to write a little this morning because of a dream I had. It was the first time I ever remember dreaming about Papa. In the dream a group of us are walking down the road and there he was on a horse come riding down from the field he was working in. I can’t remember exactly what he said. I just remember crying and asking how he was. I think he said he was well.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 011.580 [Continued]

“The Silence of the Mornin'” . . . Ed Huskey. I think it was about his favorite song and I was just listening to it.

I got quite a bit of work done today as far as my own stuff. I did music for “You and I” and finished and put music to “It’s Always Been You”. It’s been so lately that I’ve been putting chords in my book and I think soon I’ll record everyone and add another every time I finish. I also need to start my lead sheets. So far I only have “Rhymes”. I’m gonna ask Mr. Mulloy if its lead sheets are acceptable before I do all the rest.

I go pick up my phone tomorrow and I guess I’ll be just like the “Jerk” when the new phone book comes. Well, it’s really late . . .

Captain’s Log: Stardate 011.680 [Wednesday, January 16, 1980]

Well, it’s been an unbelievably average day . . . Seminar, class, eat, and study. The only things out of the ordinary were: I got my telephone today . . . 320-5051 Cody, Michael A. _ I had company for dinner . . . Taylor Binkly, my new next door neighbor _ I called Beth Forbis and talked to her quite a while . . . we’re gonna get together some time next week _ and I wrote many letters.

As you may have noticed, Beth is about the first girl I’ve mentioned since I came to Nashville. I’m trying not to think about it if possible ’cause it usually just makes me sick. I feel the good Lord will lead me to someone in due time so I’m just trying to trust Him in this right now. Not to say I haven’t seen and stared at several nice ‘uns I’m just . . .

Like Pam Furman, Beth Forbis was one of the girls from AESU 616. I saw her that one night in Nashville. She was going to college, but I can’t remember which one. Vanderbilt maybe.

Captain’s Log Stardate 8501.11 [Friday, January 11, 1985]

It is morning and I am still not all awake yet but I figured I’d write a little because at night I seem to work on songs to the point of exhaustion. Still they come slow and labored. I really must try to forget the record business all together so tI can concentrate on what I am writing . . .

Captain’s Log Supplimental [sic]

Today really turned out well. After I wrote my first entry, Jim wanted me and Billy Bob Shane to do a rough (office) version of the song we wrote (“On the Loose”) which turns out to be a descent [sic] little tune, I just say. Then Jim and I had ourselves a lunch at Shoney’s after which I walked around the mall for a while. When I got back to the office everyone looked at me all smiles and I was informed that Kin Vassey of Kenny Rogers Prods. had called with an enthusiastic review of “Real Love” which I blindly sent to LA a few months ago. I called Kin back because he had a suggestion for a possible change of a couple of bars in the chorus. He thought the tune was very good and told me I was a good writer and artist. I was naturally on a high. Kenny will be cutting sometime toward June so I think “Real Love” will definitely be considered. Also Kin said to send him anything I wanted and he gave me a code (K)* to put on the package so it was sure to get directly to him. Thanks God for all of this. I was so inspired even when I got off work that I was able to come home and finish a new song I’ve been wrestling with for a couple of weeks. Of course I’ll live with it a while but I think it’s done. I call it “Never Fade Away“, a positive love song (believe it or not) inspired by time spent recently with a certain Pyra Rochelle Slaven. it’s been a good day and now I’ll sleep . . .

* A K inside a circle.

33 years ago today — January 16, 2020 — was also a Thursday.

Captain’s Log Stardate 8601.16 [Thursday, January 16, 1986]

I guess the only big news is that I have moved to Cats #1 on West End and going at it full time. Due to concern over Earl’s financial situation and our arrangement, I decided to check on full-time work with Steve West so there you have it. I like it pretty well. The time flies faster because we generally stay so busy. Still not sure how this will affect my writing as I haven’t settled down enough yet to write.

I must stop here and confess the feelings that hit me when I wrote that last bit. It was a feeling of hopelessness. Why am I concerned about my writing? What is the point in it? It has gotten me nowhere really. There is little sense of accomplishment when a great song is finished and shoved into a drawer. There must be more. I don’t have a girl either. I know I would write regardless of where I was or what I was doing. Should I leave Nashville and go home or to California or to Maine and start building a life? I don’t want to give up but I can’t hold to the road much longer without some sense of direction.

Part of my depression is being alone. It’s tough to sit at Burger King’s drive-thru and watch the couple in the car behind you making out and laughing. It’s 12:30 AM and you’re all alone. I also get an odd feeling when Noel shows up with one of his beautiful new finds. I know fully that there is not one bit of vanity in him. I think it’s just the sheer beauty of a girl like Jan that gives me that slap of lonliness [sic].

Earl is in New York doing who knows what. I have tried to hold on to some faith in him but it is gone. I’ve used the big “if” in talking about him but I know now there is nothing he can do. I feel our relationship is doomed and if I am actually [to] make it in this business I must get away from him. I don’t know how that will work out but it has to.

On the lighter side, Jack and Leslie were on Headline Chasers on Tuesday and they won $2300 a piece! It was great to see them and hear them tell Wink M. stories I knew they had just made up.

Well, it’s time to shower up and head off to work . . .

More from my old Writing Life blog:

• Wednesday, January 10, 2007
• Friday, January 12, 2007
• Tuesday, January 15, 2008
• Saturday, January 10, 2009
• Sunday, January 11, 2009
• Wednesday, January 14, 2009
• Thursday, January 15, 2009
• Monday, January 10, 2010

I return to my journals from 1978, 1980, 1982, and 1985. In January of 1978, I was 19 years old and studying flute at Mars Hill College. In January of 1980, I was 21. I’d spent five semesters at MHC and the previous summer in Europe. During the autumn of ’79, with my world and mind expanded through travel, I seemed to have reached a some conclusions: one was that I didn’t have the dexterity to be a great flute player; another was that I had an interest in the music business, specifically songwriting; yet another was that I would leave Mars Hill and transfer to Belmont College, a similar school in Nashville, Tennessee, where a new program in music business was being offered. These conclusions led me to make the bold move to Music City, a move which lasted only until June of that year when I’d finished one semester at Belmont and returned home to North Carolina. January of 1982 found 23-year-old me again involved with Nashville — a sort of long-distance relationship at first, but later that year a second move. In January 1985, I was 26-going-on-27, and I’d been living in Nashville for a couple of years — making friends and making music.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 010.478 [Wednesday, January 4, 1978]

Well, I’m counting down the days until I have to go back to school. This Sunday I’ll have to load up and head back. I’ve got kind of mixed emotions about the whole thing; I want very much to not have to leave here, but at the same time I want to go back I guess more than anything just to get out again.

Today, Joey and I went to the “derm” and then over to Tweed’s at about 10:00. We sat around and talked for about an hour-and-a-half, then Mike got ready and we went to the Western Sizzler for some lunch. Over lunch the subject of beer came up and for some reason I made mention of the fact that I don’t like to eat and drink and prefer to have a coke and then beer. Mike didn’t seem to be concerned and I didn’t really think about it until Joe said something about it when we left Tweed’s at about 3:30. It was a really good day. This evening has been mostly made up of watching TV and reading. I bought a book, The Force of Star Wars, and it deals with things Mike and I have talked about, parallels with the Bible; pretty interesting. . . .

Captain’s Log: Stardate 010.578 [Thursday, January 5, 1978]

I love these good easy days. I rolled out of bed at 11:30 and from then on I did next to nothing. I was a PSA on WLOS-TV about “STAR TREK and Science Convention” coming up soon. I’m pretty sure I’ll go to that.

Harlon said he talked to Jim yesterday and we’re gonna try to have a sort of White Water reunion jam on Saturday. I’m really looking forward to that. . . .

Captain’s Compiled Log: Stardates 010.678-010.878 [Friday-Sunday, January 6-8, 1978]

Well the big thing going on right now is that I’m back at school. It was pretty much of a hassel [sic] getting everything back up here but it all came out alright. It’s pouring the snow outside so the high school won’t meet tomorrow and if this keeps up they may be out quite a while.

That’s about it for today and the last two or three for that matter. Oh yea [sic], I took G——— out Saturday and we had a really good time. She’s really nice and I could lose myself in her, but something in me just won’t let go and I don’t know why. . . .

I lived my freshman year in Spilman Hall, one of the oldest dormitories on the Mars Hill College campus. One of my favorite memories of that time is that when snow fell, the boys from Florida — and MHC had quite a few of these — would go outside every few minutes to wipe the accumulation off their cars, fearing that snow might ruin their paint jobs.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 010.978 [Monday, January 9, 1978]

Well, my started off today by standing in line for two-and-a-half hours to get a sticker put on my ID (<– Bummer). This evening I went to Mike’s to eat supper and we went to see “Close Encounters.” It is really a great movie. I feel so free when I see it and I can really identify with Roy Neary. He’s played by Richard Dreyfuss, who has now become my favorite actor. Tomorrow I start my hand bell class so I’ll get some Z’s now. . . .

MHC had these short-term semesters in January each year, during which students could take a class in some special interest. I don’t remember if I took any other January courses, but I remember enjoying learning to play handbells.

Now the scene shifts to the beginning of January 1980. I was less than two months past my 21st birthday and settling in on 17th Avenue in Nashville. I can only imagine that I took this step with the aid of confidence earned in my summer abroad with AESU — the American-European Student Union tour.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 010.679 [actually 010.680; Sunday, January 6, 1980]

Tonight is my second night as a citizen of Nashville, Tennessee. It’s been as good as an be expected of the situation I have put myself into. That of being off campus in an upstairs one-room apartment. So far it has been boring and very lonely but I have chosen this for work purposes, school and song-writing. I had my fun last semester, about which I must write something now.

I knew Phill Shuford as a very good friend for 2 years before we became roommates in apartment 013. The only blemish on our semester was that Phill spent 8 week[s] in Washington, D.C. We really missed him in the good times we had. He is a great fellow and was always a very good friend.

I knew Keith Johnson in a basic “Hello” relationship for a while, but not quite as long a[s] Phill. KJ is a funny man and there’s never a dull moment when he’s around. He was the main reason we got in trouble with the girls upstairs, stayed up half the night every night. Through all the laughter and nonsense, Keith is a very good friend.

Finally, I had no idea who Ed Huskey was before I came to 013 but it wasn’t long before he became my closest friend.

As soon as I started getting to know him I knew there was a special chemistry between he and I. He painted me a picture of the Silver Warrior and I gave him a guitar, and we laughed alot [sic]. We are now brothers but now also separated. Yet for the last 4 months he’s been a big part of my life and I love him.

So ends and begins another stage of my life. It was as much fun (or more) as Europe and we had great times. Keith and Phill are still in 013, Ed is in Cherokee and I’m here in Nashville . . . I miss ’em . . . and I love ’em. . . .

Captain’s Log: Stardate 010.780 [Monday, January 7, 1980]

It has [sic]

It has been a very good day. I spoke with Mr. Mulloy of the MB department today and registered. My classes look exciting and I’ll be glad to get started. I’m taking Accounting, History of Commercial Music, Algebra, Survey of Music Business, Business Intro, and Intro to the Studio.

There are many pretty girls here and in general most people I talked to were very nice . . . True Southerners! I mailed a bunch of letter and talked to Mom and Dad on the phone tonight. I’m looking forward to the back home scene. . . .

Captain’s Log: Stardate 010.880 [Tuesday, January 8, 1980]

The first day of classes went well today. They are all new and I can see now this is a real challenge. I just hope I’m up to it. I’m gonna work on being a bit more out-going and aggressive . . . try to move with a little more self-confidence. I am in no way changing my personality, just bringing it out more. It’ll be a slow change ’cause it’s very hard for me to do. I think just the confidence and drive to just speak out is what I need to develop.

There are sure more people that [sic] I expected in this degree. Everywhere it seems I ran into MB majors, my classes are at least 80% MB people.

I’ll be taking flute, as soon as I can get lessons arranged, with Mrs. Norma Rogers. I want to keep up my flute no matter what.

I also need to see the Financial aid people about a UDSL ’cause it looks like I’m gonna need it.

Well, I’ve got accounting and History of Commercial Music tomorrow so I better go. Unless I can talk myself out of it or it costs more than $5.00, I’ll be going to see live wrestling tomorrow night; that should be wild . . .

Captain’s Log: Stardate 010.980 [Wednesday, January 9, 1980]

Well, now I’ve been to all of my classes once except for flute and MB Seminar. Things are gonna be OK. One more night here then I’ll go home for a couple of days and I can hardly wait.

I went to see live wrestling for the first time tonight. It was funny to watch the crowd[‘]s reaction to all that was going on.

I performed my habit again tonight. One of these days I’m gonna learn to let the Lord strengthen me.

I wrote some new lyrics today; no music yet. It’s called “Once for Every Lonely Night” and with the right music it might come out pretty well. I’m thinking about calling some guys who want a lead singer for a Christian rock group. I think it might be a good experience. . . .

I sort of remember “Once for Every Lonely Night.” I’m sure I have the lyric somewhere, and I probably have a demo recording of it somewhere as well. Wrestling matches used to take place regularly at the fairgrounds in Nashville. Although I’d regularly watched wrestling on TV since the 1960s, I’d never seen a live show before this trip in January ’80.

Captain’s Log Stardate 8201.06 [Wednesday, January 6, 1982]

Another tough, tough day gone by. This morning we moved Mama Reeves to Ernie’s for a stay. She took it rather hard but she’s OK for now. The house was different when I came back here and I’m very worried as to how Mom is going to take that difference when she gets back from Jerry’s.

I had one break from the toughness of the day when I went downtown in Asheville. First I went up to the Pack Squire Magazine story and rummaged through them and finally bought a Rolling Stone. From there I went around a couple of corners to Woolworth’s and stopped at the lunch counter for a greasy burger and french fries while I read my magazine. Then I went to the Glass Company and got my flute out of repair for a mere $90 (it had been there since 8107.31 [Friday, July 31, 1981]). From there it was down hill. When I got to Ron’s office I found out that Earl’s check bounced and we can’t get hold of him. We can’t find out what the deal is or if the deal is. I am prepared for the whole thing to fall through but I don’t know what I’ll do if it does. It’s just that so many would be let down besides me. Anyway, I feel that the music I am writing is very good and that it’s something people will accept as many already have. The only thing I know is to leave it in the hands of my LORD and allow His will to be done.

Getting back to today, I called Jerry at work to see what, if anything he had gotten out of Mom and Dad, turned out to be nothing, and also tell him Mama Reeves was moved up on the hill.

Tonight I listened to music, watched some TV, played guitar, ate Chinese food, and finishe[d] a song called “Marie”. It may not be on e of my best but it was something to write. I have the house to myself so I don’t know if I’ll stay here tomorrow or hit A-ville again. . . .

If I’m not mistaken, my flute was in the shop for so long because of the repair it needed after I sat on it. Yes, I sat on it. I’d been playing in my bedroom one night in July 1981 (I’m guessing about this general date). I had the lights off while I improvised melodies. At some point, I put the flute down on one of the beds and left the room for something. I came back in without turning on the lights and sat down on the bed exactly where the flute lay. What a sickening feeling!

My family — Dad, Mom, Jerry, and I — had moved into the Reeves homeplace in Walnut after Papa Reeves walked on in June 1968. So, I grew up in the same house Mom grew up in. But living with my grandmother, Mama Reeves, took its toll on Mom, who had a difficult time transitioning from daughter to being herself as wife and mother. Never terribly strong emotionally — at least according to her — Mom had a kind of breakdown at this time, and she and Dad left to stay with Jerry in Statesville, expecting the rest of the family to sort out Mama Reeves. That’s how she ended up at my aunt Ernie’s for a period of time before going to a nursing home in Shelby, where my uncle Mack was a Methodist minister. Mama Reeves eventually walked on from there.

By January of 1985, I’d been living in Nashville for 2-3 of years. I shared a love of Bruce Springsteen’s music with friends Noel Hudson and T. Michael Scalf. When the Boss was touring, we’d jump in the car and drive to places like Greensboro, NC, and Lexington, KY, to catch shows with tickets purchased from scalpers. When Springsteen came to the Nashville area (Murfreesboro), I slept overnight in a sleeping bag on a winter sidewalk to buy tickets for the gang.

Captain’s Log Stardate 8501.03 [Thursday, January 3, 1985]

Today it rained and was cold. I did very little besides work. Things at the store were pretty slow because of the weather, and I slowly developed a headache. I called John Johnson in Greensboro tonight to make sure he had me [a] ticket to the Boss’ 8501.19 show in that city. He does and I’m going. . . .

Check out this video clip from an old 20/20 episode, in which Hugh Downs did a segment on Springsteen’s support of local food banks. At around the two-minute mark, a woman from the Greensboro food bank is featured and right about 2:20, Noel and T. Michael step in to give donations. Noel is in the blue jean jacket and what looks like a UCLA shirt, and T. Michael comes right behind him in the black leather jacket.

More from my old Writing Life blog:

• Thursday, January 4, 2007
• Friday, January 5, 2007
• Wednesday, January 9, 2008
• Sunday, January 4, 2009
• Tuesday, January 6, 2009
• Saturday, January 7, 2012

The approach to and experience of any given January 1 is a time of reflection, of looking both backward and forward. My journals show this, so a long post of entries follows, beginning with the last week of 1977 and first days of 1978. I was 19 years old.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 122.777 (Tuesday, December 27, 1977)

Today passed much like the rest have done since I’ve been out of school. I laid [sic] around the house all day and went out very little. I got my ring and book on “STAR TREK II.” The book was really good and I’m looking forward to seeing the new series. The ring is made of good metal but it has a cheap finish so I’m gonna take it to a jewelers in Asheville and have it gold plated; I hope I can find someone to do it.

I went to Leesa’s tonight to get my haircut. Ya know after all that fuss I logged about her, I realize that we could never make it as a pair simply because we walk two completely different paths. There’s still quite a physical attraction, but I don’t think either of us would want to get into that sort of thing.

It’s late and JWJ will be here tomorrow so I’ll take off. . . .

The cheap gold-plating that came on the Star Trek ring flaked off. Even though I described the metal as “good,” it wasn’t good enough to withstand the heat of gold-plating, so no one could do it. My uncle JD took it and used it as a model to create a solid (dental) gold, one-piece ring that I believe he gave me the following Christmas in boxes inside of boxes. He was a terrific uncle! . . . The interesting mention of Leesa seems rather insightful to me, lo, these many years later. . . . JWJ is John Witherspoon Johnson.

Captain’s Log: Compiled Stardates 122.877 – 123.177 (Wednesday – Saturday, December 28-31, 1977)

These last few days have been great. George and Betty have been here and so has John Johnson. I’ve had a really great time.

Wednesday, John got here and we went to Asheville that night, stayed tall, and saw “The World’s Greatest Lover.”

Thursday, we lounged around, went to Asheville, got small, and saw “The Gauntlet.”

Friday, we messed around in “A” town in the afternoon, came home and got so small I thought I was gonna disappear.

Today we went to John Kelly’s and watched the slides of our week with the Minnesota group. It made us more determined to see them again than we were the day they left. I hope we get up there. Mr. Moore and John also planted in my mind the desire to go off and work at a summer camp this coming summer. I also need to call Mack and see what he can dig up on some camps for me. George and Betty and I had a good time in Asheville tonight as we brought in the New Year on our way home.

The notion of “getting small” is a euphemism for getting stoned on marijuana; that of “staying tall,” of course, is not getting stoned. . . . I have no memory of John Kelly. . . . The “Minnesota group” – some of whom were Wheaton College students, as I recall – came to work at Glory Ridge for a week in the summer of 1977. One night before the end of their stay, John, Joey, and I made out with three girls from the group in one of the tents. We never got “up there” to see them again.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 010.178 (Sunday, January 1, 1978)

Well, here we go again. Like Mike [Tweed] said in his sermon this morning, I have no idea what the coming year will bring me. Yet, I know ultimately where I’ll wind up, good or bad, come what may, with the Lord Jesus Christ in Heaven.

I took G——— to see the “Good-bye Girl.” She really liked it and I think it set the mood for the evening. We sat in the car at her house and got close for about an hour-and-a-half. It was a very nice time and I’m thankful for it.

I’m sleepy so I’ll log some goals tomorrow night. . . .

Captain’s Compiled Log: Stardates 010.278 – 010.378 (Monday – Tuesday, January 2-3, 1978)

Yesterday was very much like any other New Year holiday; 4 football games on TV and dinner at the Plemmons’. Joe and I went up to Mike’s to watch some of the evening games and had a pretty good time. Last night I wrote my first gospel song. I haven’t got a title for it yet but I really like the words. I hope God is pleased with them.

Today I was just easy all day long. The only thing I did was, this evening, I went with Jobie to help Freddie and Martha move into their apartment in Weaverville. It’s a nice place and he’s got a real nice wife.

I’m gonna write down some of my goals for the new year and forget about trying any resolutions. I’m better at resolutions when I just wait til the urge to change hits me so I don’t have to force myself into it. Anyway, back to my goals; 1) to really advance on my flute and piano 2) to work in a Christian camp this summer 3) to possibly find a steady girl 4) to go to Minnesota in August.

These are just a few. There are others that I either can’t remember or shall not log at this time. . . .

I guess I did as well as I could with the flute and piano, but by the fall semester of 1979, I’d realized I didn’t have the dexterity to be great at either instrument. . . . As for the other goals, I didn’t get a steady girl or go on a trip to Minnesota. I did, however, land a job at a Christian camp (although that might have been the summer of ’79), but I ended up having to back out of it for some reason. I remember standing at the hall telephone in Spilman (dormitory) and hearing the camp director say that I could never apply to his camp again. Very Christian, right?

The scene shifts to Nashville, Tennessee. The year was 1984, and I was 25 years old.

Captain’s Log Stardate 8401.01 (Sunday, January 1, 1984)

The year is new and the slate is wiped clean, time for new beginnings. It is hard to say what ’84 will bring my way but I’m very anxious to see. Whatever comes, I know it will be according to the plan. With today things have started off very well. I spent a great day with my family and a great evening with G——— . Hopefully this will set the general tone for the next 365 days. During this year I hope to see the release of my first and second albums, some prominent artists recording my songs, a band of my own and a successful college tour in the fall, and a good batch of new material. I would also like to see things straighten out for Earl, leaving him free to be the creative, energetic person he is. I know I have written about a lot of girls in these logs but, if she’s willing, G——— could have serious potential as the winner of this kid’s heart. We’ve known each other for a long time but this was our first date. I’ll try not to get too excited ’til at least the second date but it was all so natural tonight I don’t know how I can. The worst thing that can happen would be that it just stopped after tonight without exploration or explanation. As for me, I don’t think I’ll just let it go like I’ve done so many times before. . . .

I don’t think I saw G___ again until years later (maybe 1997 or 2002 or 2007), when Leesa and I met her and her husband at a Class of ’77 reunion. . . Earl was Earl Richards, who signed me to publishing and recording/production contracts in 1981.

And just like that the year was gone and another begun and I was 26 years old.

Captain’s Log Stardate 8501.01 (Tuesday, January 1, 1985)

I have really got to start doing better at keeping this up-to-date. Still, very little changes to report so maybe I don’t need to write more. I’ve been sitting here reading the front entries and it is both funny and sad. It’s funny that I just bounced around between everything as I still do, and it’s sad that nothing has really changes. I’m still alone in my life though I have a great group of friends here in Nashville; my much lauded recording career is still lost in the doldrums of Earl’s mind; and I still worry about my relationship with God. I keep thinking that I’m so much more grown-up now than then but I’m not. Maybe I’m a little more realistic and no so fatalistic (“If this record doesn’t go to #1 I’ll just die!”) but aside from that there has been no real progress within or without. Could it be that’s why my writing seems sluggish? I sometimes don’t really live here, I just exist. These days I do have more of a plan B and C than I used to have, I won’t “just die”. These plans are going into action on Feb. 14 (8502.14) and I’ll give it ’til my contracts here are up. If nothing comes of any of my struggles* I’ll just head for Appalachian State U. and get my teachers certificate for English and do that. There is no giving up involved in this there’s just a seeing of the way things are, have been and will be. Until that time though, I’ll do all I can to see things work because I still believe this is where I fit into God’s plan.

Speaking of God, I’ve found a “fantastic” church to go to in the Goodlettsville Cumberland Presbyterian Church. I feel quite “comfy” there.

I now work as a clerk at Cat’s Records, 2620 Gallatin Rd. It’s a good little job and I’m learning a lot about black people. The people I work with are great too, especially John Williamson and P———. John and I have much the same sense of humor and I have a “thing” for P———. Cat’s fill most of my time these days in one way or another.

So, ’85 is a spark of hope that flashes through my mind now and then. There are possibilities that I shall not mention now but just inform this book of as they happen or fall through. I must try to keep in mind that hope is a duty, not a luxury. As a Christian I must hope and believe that God will use me to the fullest of my ability for His plans.

As for my plans:

Plan A: To release records and work toward becoming a Star Writer/performer/singer, helping my family, friends and the world at large as much as possible.

Plan B: To make a living here in Nashville as a writer, not just for Nashville but for all music, again doing what I can to help, probably on a more local level.

Plan C: To go back to school and finish my degree in English, then begin teaching, helpin [sic] raise kids to be the best they can be, maybe in the meantime over the years writing a novel.

So, there you have my plans . . .

Except for the bit about Appalachian State University, I’m living Plan C, and it’s a good life.

Captain’s Log Stardate 8501.02 (Wednesday, January 2, 1985)

This is a very strange life I am living and I have very strange feelings about it these days. The career that I’ve come into, or stand on the brink of, has seemed to go on so long and so uneventfully now that my soul seems numb. It is not a feeling of giving up I think but of having no expectations. Things are out of my hands and all I see to do is write with no expectations of it going any further than that. It doesn’t seem as if there is no hope[;] it just seems that this is all there is. I feel very strange. God must have a plan in all of this but I’ve lost sight of what it was or what I thought it was. The gift is from Him but it seems I am or someone is wasting it, though, as I said, I’ve lost sight of what it was for. There are so many places this could take me but I don’t know which to strive toward. It is a very strange and empty, lost feeling. Am I doing something wrong? I really don’t know anymore. I’m just floating through my circumstances, getting very little direction from my heart anymore. Though still writing, it is at times, or at once, fulfilling and without purpose. I guess trying to draw myself closer to God is my only course of action. Perhaps He is directing and I’m looking the other way, not listening. The only place I see myself wanting to go is into love. I am so very tired of being alone, but how on Earth do I give myself to someone else when I don’t know what it is I’m giving? How can I expect there to be someone to join their life with mine when it’s kind of like buying a car, sight-unseen? It’s such a puzzle and again I feel my only course of action is to pray and try to be open to guidance, or open to whatever lesson I’m supposed to be learning from all of this. Is it blind faith that should motivate me? It must be for I can see nothing ahead of me. . . .

That seems like a fairly dark place to be. In a song called “Everything’s Gonna Be All Right,” I wrote, “All my bridges have burned / And left me here without a light.” But, hey, another year passes, and life changes as it does.

Captain’s Log Stardate 8601.01 (Wednesday, January 1, 1986)

Well, here it is New Year’s Day 1986. I’m feeling good about it too. Last night was a good party with John, Marc and Vernon at Cat’s then Cindy, Noel, JB, Katie, T Michael and Charles at the Exit In. I’m reeling a little today. My thoughts on 1985 are that it yielded some good writing but career-wise I haven’t moved an inch near as I can tell. I don’t see how the coming year could do less for me professionally than the leaving year. So last night at midnight my production contract with Earl ran out. My plans are to hang on to him for the hope he’ll get something done but with the help of my friends I will cut some new demoes. With those I will try to get some record company interest on my own. I also think it’s time I put together a band and started trying to work some. This could be a great year for me and I hope it will. I’m going to commit myself to doing all I can to make it so. I want to become more involved with everything. Maybe I’ll even find a girl this year. Who knows? I’m going to write and write and write. I have nothing to stop me and it’s time to live life to the fullest. I also plan to become more involved spiritually and with the church of my choice which is West End United Methodist Church. This leads me to becoming more involved in humanity. I’ve got a lot of clothes I don’t need so I’ll try not to be such a pack rat [and] give them away. Here’s a prayer that 1986 will bring good things to all people but I wish mostly for peace for us all. I personally as for wisdom for myself as with that comes all things good. . . .

When these early days of 1986 came around, I was 27 years old.

Captain’s Log Stardate 8601.02 (Thursday, January 2, 1986)

Once again I’m going to try to be more consistent with this log of my life. I realize at times there seems to be nothing going on but I do feel things every day and these feeling should be here.

I start off another New Year as usual wondering what it might hold in store, reminding myself of the potential of 365 days. A lot can happen. A pen can begin to run dry for instance and drive me crazy. [Throughout the above portion of the paragraph, the ink is fading; the next sentence is in red.] Could the year be more exciting if I wrote it all up in red, kind of a “red letter year” idea?

My writing seems to be off to a decent start I must say. Nothing is finished yet but there are three pretty exciting works in progress, namely “Finger On The Pulse” (with Karen Pell), “Leesa Listen” and Everybod[y] Samba”. I hope to make this a strong year for writing.

The goal of this year is to become more committed, more involved in all aspects of my life. I want to get closer to my church and my chosen Faith, really living it. I need to take better care of myself as I am not getting any younger, try to quit smoking and get down to maybe 180-185 pounds. In music it will hopefully be an all-out effort to do all I can to write more and better, perform more and sing better than ever. I should do the Writer’s Night at the Bluebird and elsewhere as much as I can and I should put some kind of band together and really make a run at this scene. In other areas I hope to keep my friends happy to be with me. I want to read more and maybe I should watch TV and even listen to music a little less. Last but not least I would enjoy the change and challenge of being in love. Of course that doesn’t depend solely on any one thing I can do. She’s out there somewhere tonight and waiting for me. So there you have it.

In the news it is rumoured that the Kenny Rogers organization is interested in buying half of my publishing. Still, rumours have abounded in these last years so I can’t put too much into it. I need to find out some terms of whatever might happen there though so I can know where I’ll be standing if this does happen. Also, it is rumoured, Atlantic Records in interested in that old dusty project. That would be exciting to no end but again I am cautious of what I put my trust in. I know I can only trust in God to deliver the goods on what He has planned for my life and the gift He has given me.

Mom has to go to the doctor soon to have a lump in her breast checked out. I pray it is nothing serious. I don’t know what I’d do if she was not around. She has been a boost to me, along with Dad, my whole life through! They are both talented people but their lives have been dedicated to each other and me and my brother. I hope they are happy.

Well, I’ll leave the red pen and this book by my bed and try to keep it up . . .

I remember being excited by what Karen Pell and I wrote for “Finger on the Pulse,” but I remember only the hook and a bit of the rhythm. I finished “Leesa, Listen,” and it appears on my album Wonderful Life. I have no memory at all of a piece called “Everybody Samba.”

My journal notebook at this point has a blue divider page on which I wrote the following in blue ink:

Hello,

Nothing happening here on 8601.01. How about there? Are you truly committed to your life?

Michael the Younger

Then, below this in red a year and a half later:

Well I don’t know how committed I am to my life but there is something happening here June 7, 1987. I got out of my Earl deal, spent a summer loose and met Cathi [King] & Gary [Morris] in the Fall, got a Glen Campbell cut, a Margaret Becker cut, finally met Ashley Cleveland and became her friend, did a bunch of demos, met David Hungate and he wants to produce me, met Steve Nathan in Muscle Shoals and he wanted to but I let it go, spent a wonderful month out West, and yes I feel I may be a little more committed to my life—

So that I don’t lose track of it, I’ll include here a similar exchange on the opposite side of the blue divider page:

Howdy,

Have you been any better at keeping this current than you have been up today (Sunday June 7, 1987)? Any more cuts beyond Campbell & Becker? How is your writing? The band? Did a record deal ever come about? How is Ashley? Jan? Margaret? Anyone else? Where are you living? Are you committed to your walk?

Michael the Younger

The above was in red ink, followed by the following in blue (but not in this format):

Michael the Older—On Tuesday, December 15, 1987

Cuts: “WALK THROUGH WALLS” by Geoff Moore; Writing: On a hike since August or September; Band: Sounding good but has given me much grief in letting go Dale and Lang; Ashley: Fine; Jan: Fine; Margaret: Haven’t seen her – fine I guess; Anyone else: No one else; Living: 100 Wellington (closet with bathroom); Committed: Trying harder, struggling more.

More from my old Writing Life blog:

• Wednesday, December 27, 2006
• Friday, December 29, 2006
• Sunday, December 31, 2006
• Monday, January 1, 2007
• Thursday, December 27, 2007
• Saturday, December 29, 2007
• Monday, December 31, 2007
• Monday, December 31, 2007
• Tuesday, January 1, 2008
• Wednesday, January 2, 2008
• Saturday, December 27, 2008
• Wednesday, December 31, 2008
• Thursday, January 1, 2009
• Tuesday, December 29, 2009
• Friday, January 1, 2010
• Saturday, January 1, 2011
• Saturday, December 31, 2011
• Sunday, January 1, 2012

Before I dig into past journal entries made over the years during this timeframe, December 20-26, I’m going to take a moment and go back to an event that made me if not possible then legitimate. Sixty-five years ago today, on 26 December 1954, Plumer Jean Cody and Dorothy Lee Reeves drove from Madison County down to Greenville, South Carolina, were married (by a Justice of the Peace, I’m assuming), and drove back home as Plumer and Dorothy Cody. They were both twenty-three years old. I think they headed out fairly quickly for Dad’s military posting in Utah. In ten months, my Robert Gerald “Jerry” Cody was born, and in another three years, I was born. Although Dad walked on in November 1996 and Mom is doing a slow fade in a nursing home, today, 12/26, is still their wedding anniversary.

Now, back to my journals. I continue first through the end of 1977, when I was nineteen years old and finishing my first semester as a flute major at Mars Hill College.

Captain’s Log: Stardates 122.077 – 122.477 [Tuesday-Saturday, December 20-24, 1977]

These last few days have pretty well passed uneventfully, all bringing us closer to the special day in this holiday season. I’ve done very little in the way of activity except that Wednesday we played basketball with Tweed and some guys at Reynolds [High School]. We had our get-together with the Plemmons family 122.377 [Friday, December 23] PM. Tonight we ate with the Wallin fam. I went to exchange gifts with George and Betty tonight.

Tomorrow is the day. Nearly 2000 earth-years ago, God gave to man His son, Jesus, who was conceived by God in the womb of a virgin. Jesus, God’s Son made flesh, finally at the age of 33, died on the cross and three days later he arose and lived again. He still lives and he’s building a home for us in Heaven. It all sounds like a story but every word is true. As bad as sin is, Jesus bore the weight of the sins of everyone who has ever lived and he did it to give us a chance to accept him as Savior and Lord and live with him throughout eternity. Sounds pretty wierd [sic] doesn’t it? Yet, I believe every word of it because it’s true. Though it seems my very nature to sin, I know God loves me and will accept my repentance. . . .

The Plemmons family is Mom’s younger sister Ernestine (“Ernie), her husband Cloice Plemmons, and their sons Joey and Mark. The Wallin family is Dad’s younger sister Pansy, her husband Edison Wallin, and their daughter Donna.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 122.577 [Sunday, December 25, 1977]

Well, another Christmas come and gone. It’s been a very good day. Our church service went quite well today[. T]his afternoon and evening have been just great. George, Betty, and I saw the most fantastic movie tonight. It was Richard Dreyfuss in “The Goodbye Girl“, [sic] it was great. I guess I’ll have to fall in love one of these days and find out what it’s really like.

I was going to say some things, but there’s too much so I’ll just pray about and sleep on them. . . .

Captain’s Log: Stardate 122.677 [Monday, December 26, 1977]

Well, another good day gone! I really had a fine time today. I went up to Mike’s at about noon and played basketball, then stayed the rest of the day. Dallas beat Chicago today 37-7 and they were awesome.

I feel so alone at times. I know God is with me but I’m at an age where it would seem natural and very good to have a steady girl. Yet, the Lord hasn’t shown me anyone to take up a relationship with or maybe I missed His cue. Oh well. . . .

Now we skip from 1977 to 1981, when I had just turned twenty-three years old, which, given what I wrote above, was the same age Mom and Dad were when they married. As for me at twenty-three, I was making my first contacts and contracts with Nashville.

Captain’s Log Stardate 8112.21 [Monday, December 21, 1981]

Well, it’s a little more than tomorrow for the news, almost a week I guess. Anyway, here it is. We hit Earl’s office around 10:30 AM and talked over some plans for the album. We then signed papers and papers and picked up our money ($1500 for me!). Before leaving for home, we stopped at Red Lobster for a pig session. The ride home was a lot of fun and since then I’ve been here at the house trying to write some and in Asheville trying to get my Christmas shopping done. . . .

This is a follow-up to last week’s Throwback Thursday, in which the entry for December 15, 1981, read, “Today was the day of the signing! However, we had a long, hard ride back home, so I’ll get sleep first and give details tomorrow. . . .”

Leap forward with me to December 1984. I was twenty-six years old, and I’d been living in Nashville for over two years. I’d recorded a couple of albums with Earl, as per the contracts mentioned above. The titles of these album projects were Fiesta, recorded in 1981 and ’82 (I think), and Waiting for the Night, recorded in 1984. But Earl’s $500/month advance arrangement wasn’t enough to live on, so I’d gone out to get a job with Cat’s Records, a retail chain that was based in Nashville but had stores in Knoxville and other places.

The entry below is from Christmas Eve in ’84.

Captain’s Log Stardate 8412.24 [Monday, December 24, 1984]

I’ll recap the year a little later. Now I want to deal with the immediate present. It is Christmas Eve 1984 and the first in my life I have spent away from my family and the first (hopefully the last) to be spent alone. Suffice to say, I work at Cat’s Records and there is also a girl there by the name of P——— who I have been spending a small amount of extra-curricular time with lately and as usual have felt the potential for that illusive [sic] relationship I seek. Anyway, I was to leave Nashville at 2pm for home but we were very busy and the weather was bad and Pyra and I were getting along well so I kept staying. Finally 6pm came and I was tired and she had seemed to drop small hints all day that I was wanted to stay. Closing time came and I told her that I didn’t feel like driving 5 hours in bad weather and I asked what she was doing. She said “nothing”, so told her that if we could spend the evening together I would stay. Agreed. So I called Mom, told her the story and was to get a call from P——— when she had gone home and changed. Needless to say, she called and said she had changed her mind and that she was going to ride to Knoxville with her roommates. Still she asked me not to go tonight but rest and go tomorrow. The way I felt I had no choice at that point. I (was/am) pissed. I went out and ate alone at Red Lobster and am now trying to sleep early so I can get home to NC at an early hour. Might this be a turning point in my life? I can’t help but wonder how next Christmas Eve will find me. . . .

P___ and I remained friends until we lost track of each other sometime after I — and maybe she — no longer worked at Cat’s Records. Eventually she became part of the composite that makes up Yvonne Moon in GABRIEL’S SONGBOOK. As might be expected in this day and age, P___ and I are friends on FACEBOOK. . . . I’d forgotten this Christmas Eve situation until I reread this journal entry. But what I never forgot was the drive home to North Carolina. I left Nashville at some ridiculous time — like two or three o’clock in the morning — and headed east on I-40. I remember how lonely and beautiful were the wee hours of Christmas morning as I traveled across Tennessee. And I remember pulling into the driveway in early morning light — home for Christmas.

The next entry to fall within the December 20-26 time frame is not until 1989. I was thirty-one years old and three and a half months married to the love of my life.

Captain’s Log Saturday December 23, 1989

It is my first Christmas as a family man. I don’t know if it is this or my age of 31, but I’ve thought little about what I might get for Christmas. I seem to be waiting for Leesa’s reaction to what I give her and Lane’s reaction to what Leesa and I give him. It’s a good feeling. Still it has all been so hectic, I’ve not had enough time to focus on the meaning of Christmas. No time enough to think on the wonder of the Christ child being born again into this world and my life.

But into this world, in this season, it is not a silent night. Christmas will hear celebration and mourning. There will be celebration in East Germany where the wall has come down! Communism has fallen there, in Poland, in Hungary, and in Czechoslovakia. In most of these places, a socialist/democratic society will replace the former governments. This wonderful event in Eastern Europe was brought about by the Soviet’s opening up. Gorbachev is fighting the old line Communist history and is trying to begin a new era in that part of the world. It has been an amazing time of change since October and it continues. Celebration and mourning mix today in Rumania. The people there have risen up against their Dracula-type leader and they have finally broken the government, although not without a great deal of bloodshed. Most of the other countries accomplished their victories without killing, but in Rumania thousands have died, most of them killed by their former leader’s private police.

Closer to home, four days ago President Bush sent several thousand of our armed forces to invade Panama. An American serviceman was killed last week and so Bush retaliated with this. The main objective was to capture dictator Noriega and place a democratic government in power. The latter was shakily accomplished but seems to be getting its legs under it. Panamanians are not excited about what has happened and probably will not be until N. is captured. I know Bush’s idea was to take the American serviceman’s death as an opportunity to kick Panama’s dictator out, but after all the uplifting progress in Eastern Europe, the Panamanian incident seems ill-timed and a slap in the face of the world spirit.* I realize there is little human-made peace here on earth but I can’t help wondering what is the harm in hope.

On the home front, uncle June, Amos Kenneth Reeves, died in Michigan on Thursday December 14. He had problems over the last couple of years but still, the death was sudden. Ernie spoke with him Monday 12/11 and all was well. Mom spoke with him Wednesday evening 12/13 and he sounded fine but for a little short of breath. He ate breakfast Thursday morning with Eileen and great-granddaughter, Lisa, then laid [sic] down on the couch and soon began gasping for breath. First Eileen, then the paramedics worked on him before he got to the hospital. He was mostly dead all day and had a very unconscious struggle. Mom and Dad, JD, Mac[k], and Ernie left midday on Friday 12/15 and had bad weather and traffic all the way and didn’t arrive in Port Huron until mid-afternoon Sunday. Jerry and I left around 7am from Walnut and got to Ken’s house in Marysville around 8pm. Ken had been taking his father’s death pretty hard but Jerry’s presence seemed to calm him quite a bit. I didn’t want to make the trip at first, having a strong dislike for funerals, but I’m glad I went and I think the family was glad I was there. I will always remember June as laughing and singing and telling stories. I have a wonderful remembrance of him. A few months ago he sent me a tape of himself singing some old gospel and western and Appalachian tunes.

Mac[k] had a prayer at the funeral but said some wonderful things before he prayed. It was a picture of the Reeves boys with June in the center, having the most likeness of character to Papa who begat them all. I sometimes wonder how Mac[k] can do things like that without faltering. Is it strength? Distance? Practice? Showmanship? Sheer talent? I am hoping is it a combination of the first and last. Jerry and I could neither do such a chore, being emotional and choked-up almost to a fault. I cry easily at stupid things and find more strength for worthwhile things. I don’t know that Jerry falters at the stupid, but he chokes completely when the situation is intensely touching. Why are we like that, the both of us?

I saw many relatives on the trip. Dan is not so very square but square enough. Darwin is well and has a beautiful daughter named Dawn. I was extremely surprised to see so many kids I remember as babies, all grown up now. My biggest dread was not so much arriving in Michigan to the sorrow caused by June’s death, but rather knowing that I could not leave without going to see Rod, my older cousin with MS. He’s had the disease for eight years and it has progressed rapidly. He has no use of his legs, vision is bad, speech slurred, head, arms, and hands shake uncontrollably at times. My fear of seeing him was not so much in the disease as in the difference. I last saw him when he was whole and had his family in Walnut. His wife, Diane, sat on the porch with Rod and me until very late. We talked of so many things and established a bond that was never formed when he used to chase and catch and torture me. Still, seeing him was not what I had figured it to be. Beyond all the disease has done to him, he is still the same personality and it wasn’t very long before we laughed and I felt more at ease. I will see him again without so much dread.+

Married life is great. The career has its moments. I will write of these tomorrow perhaps, or at least within the next week.^ It is 2:28am on a busy Christmas Eve and I need to get some sleep. . . .

*Also, the world turned its eyes from the life and death struggle in Rumania to watch the fiasco in Panama, just at the time Rumanians needed world support. I admire those people for pushing their cause through in spite of P. Bush. . . . + I don’t believe I ever saw my cousin Rod alive again after this trip. . . . ^ I didn’t write again until April 26, 1990.

More from my old Writing Life blog:

• Tuesday, December 23, 2014
• Sunday, December 25, 2011
• Saturday, December 26, 2009
• Thursday, December 24, 2009
• Wednesday, December 23, 2009
• Tuesday, December 23, 2008
• Wednesday, December 26, 2007
• Monday, December 25, 2006
• Sunday, December 24, 2006
• Saturday, December 23, 2006
• Thursday, December 21, 2006
• Wednesday, December 20, 2006

It’s the morning after Christmas 2019, and Leesa and I are at home in Tennessee. We had a great Christmas Eve and Christmas Day — tiring, of course, and emotionally ranging from joy to sorrow and back again. But ultimately, we lived a good Yuletide, humanity and its frailty notwithstanding.

Tuesday: After a bit of typical Christmas Eve “running about and dancing behavior,” I picked up friend and singer Myra and headed to Cokesbury Church — Johnson City for “Candlelight & Carols.” I play in the band there, and we (the band) handled the carols portion of the evening, starting with our own version of the Barenaked Ladies’ mash-up of “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” and “We Three Kings.” We call ours “O Merry Kings.” Other songs we sang for the evening: “Angels We Have Heard on High,” “O Holy Night,” “Joy to the World (Unspeakable Joy),” “Emmanuel (Hallowed Manger Ground),” “Make Room,” and “Silent Night.”

After the candlelight service, Leesa and I returned home and were soon joined by Raleigh, Lacy, and favorite dog Ruby for our traditional Christmas Eve dinner of scrambled eggs and sausage, delicious brown gravy (like I grew up with), cheese biscuits, and semi-sweet chocolate gravy. The latter two items are from Leesa’s family in eastern North Carolina and were a treasured part of her growing-up visits to her daddy’s hometown of Ahoskie, North Carolina. Some cubes of sharp and extra-sharp cheese are folded into the biscuit dough and then baked as if they were your normal, everyday biscuits. Certainly Leesa’s Grandmama Harrell is revered for the making of these, but I like the granddaughter’s better, as she’s added the fluffiness of my mom’s to the taste sensation of her grandmother’s. I like to cover the eggs-and-sausage and a biscuit or two with the brown gravy, then put another biscuit or two in a bowl and cover them with chocolate. (We eat like this only once or twice a year, thank goodness.)

Afterwards, we did some giving of gifts, some listening to music, and a lot of laughing.

Wednesday: With no children in the house and gifts given the night before, Christmas morning was relaxed and relatively quiet. Then we left — Leesa and I — for a day visiting our mothers over in North Carolina. We had lunch with Katy, my mother-in-law, in Mars Hill. The buffet was actually pretty good, and we enjoyed it with Walda and Wayne and Ricky, Susan, and Alaina. After lunch we retired to Katy’s room and sang some Christmas songs. It was touching to hear everybody singing, and some folks came in from the hallway to listen.

In Weaverville, we visited with Mom, and I sang some songs for her. Her roommate, Patricia, sang a quiet but beautiful alto to “Silent Night.” Usually this would have been Mom’s part, but she’s often asleep or nearly so these days. My brother Jerry and sister-in-law Cathy came by, so we visited with them and exchanged some gifts.

Leesa and I were on our way back home by half past three o’clock, but we felt the need to counteract the good eating of Christmas Eve and Christmas lunch with a walk, so we stopped to hit the Erwin Linear Trail for an hour. In spite of all our sitting, we still got in our 10,000 steps! Then we came home to leftovers of eggs and biscuits and chocolate as well as a few pieces of sushi from the eve of Christmas Eve.

After the leftovers, I sat watching The Brokenwood Mysteries (Season 4, Episode 1) and typing this blog post; Leesa watched, too, while sleeping on the couch. We saw Christmas end (by the clock) and stumbled off to bed.