Our cute little tree, graced by a recent gift of angel.
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.
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.
Christmas Eve selfie, with Ruby in her Santa hat like the rest of us
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.
This first batch comes from 1977, when I’d just wrapped up my first semester as a flute major at Mars Hill College. I was 19 years old.
Captain’s Log: Stardate 121.377
I’m at home, in bed, with a cold Mountain Dew. This is the life! I took my theory test today and just came on home. Unless I was carless [sic] in what I was doing, I think I did OK, I can recall only two places where she may count me wrong. Anyway I came home, unloaded the car and went to Joey’s ballgame. They played well and won 80-64, it was great.
I’m really not out of school yet. Thursday I’ll have to take some critiques to George, pay a bill at the bookstore, and get the rest of my clothes. We’re going to do our cantata tomorrow night for the Presbyterian Church in Marshall. Lord willing it will bless us and the congregation and lift up the name of God as much as it did last Sunday. Jobie’s gonna come record the ceremony if it’s all right with everyone . . . Well it’s been a long day.
Joey = Joey Plemmons, first cousin. George = Dr. George Peery, political science professor at Mars Hill College; how I came to call him George instead of Dr. Peery, I don’t know. Jobie = Jobie Sprinkle, friend from high school and Whitewater Band days, as well as a career engineer in radio (mostly public radio). . . . Recently I heard a friend of mine say that her Christian faith grows stronger as she grows older. As I read back through these journals, I see that the opposite seems to be the case with me.
Captain’s Log: Stardate 121.477
Well I don’t write much on a day like today but I sure love to live them like this. I stayed in bed till noon, wrote some critiques, went to Marshall, watched Mark’s ball game, and went to church. The Youth Group sang over at the Marshall Presbyterian this evening. We didn’t sound [as] good as we did last Sunday, but there are several possible reasons why: 1) different accoustics [sic], 2) it was very hot, 3) we had just finished eating 4) nearly all of us had a cold. The main reason I guess was that we did as well as the good Lord wanted us to, and the people seemed to enjoy it. Tomorrow I have a lot so do so I’ll get some sleep . . . . Peace
Mark = Mark Plemmons (I’m assuming), first cousin and Joey’s baby brother.
Captain’s Log: Stardate 121.577
I love being at home! It’s not that I sleep all the time, just that there’s no pressure on the old mind. I went up to school tonight, or rather today, to pay a bill and hand in some papers. Tonight, Tom and I went to Asheville to Christmas shop a bit. I’m almost done!
I got a card from Joey Brady today. He’s in Florida and doing fine. I also got one from John Johnson. He’ll be up for a couple of days on the 28th. George and Betty will be home on the 23rd.
I saw some nice recorders in Dunham’s tonight. The tenors I’m interested in were especially nice. One was a dark wood and 65.00 and a light colored one, which was just beautiful, was 114.00 It would be nice if Mom and Dad got that one for me, but I guess they had already spent too much on me before I even asked for the recorder. I think I’ll do some reading. . . . . Live Long and Prosper Brothers and Sisters
Tom = Tom DuVall, high school friend. Joey Brady was a high school friend and basketball teammate from Hot Springs, NC. John Johnson was a friend met during a summer working on Glory Ridge; he’s now the minister at Bethany Presbyterian Church in Graham, NC. George and Betty Waters were a young married couple; they are no longer married, but both are friends on Facebook. Dunham’s Music was the go-to music store in Asheville, which is where my lovely old Guild lived before coming to live with me, Christmas 1975.
Captain’s Log: Stardate 121.677
Well, there goes another easy vacation day, yet, I’ve still got lots more. There’s really not much to say about these days. I’m really looking forward to Christmas, I think this’ll be a good one; maybe it’ll even be white.
I saw Harrell Wood at the ballgame tonight. It’s good to see an old friend like him. I saw Leesa too, but I didn’t get to talk to her much. Tomorrow Jobie and I are going in to “A”ville to run around a bit so I guess I’ll catch some z’s . . . .
Harrell Wood graduated from Madison High School in 1976, a year before I did. He was at UNC-Chapel Hill, I think, maybe studying to be a pharmacist.
Captain’s Log: Compiled Stardate 121.777-121.877
Yesterday, Jobie and I went into Asheville and spent the day shopping. I finished my Christmas shopping and also bought a book of songs for the Youth Group. It’s really good!
Last night I just stayed home and really did nothing at all.
Today the Youth Group sang our cantata for the last time at the Marshall Methodist Church. There was quite a crowd and everyone seemed to enjoy it. We did well and really got a blessing!
Tonight we had a Christmas party for the Group and just had a super time. Ernie bought gifts for all of us and we ate sandwiches and such. Then we spent the next hour or two singing. We spoofed half of our cantata by switching parts with the girls but then finished it right. . . .
I have no memory of the songbook bought for the Youth Group, the performance at the Marshall Methodist, or the Christmas party. That’s kind of sad, I think.
Captain’s Log: Stardate 121.977
Another vacation day gone by and I’ve loved it! I got up this morning and went to Asheville with Joey. Apart from that I’ve just laid around the house and run a couple of errands.
Tonight Carolina had the Liberty Bowl won and the blew it; that’s all you can say about what they did. I got back into my late night exercise bit tonight.
I forgot to log that I saw Penny Moss Meadows yesterday at WMMH. She’s letting her hair grow and it was kind of unkept but she looked good. There was something about her different that I can’t quite put my finger on.
Tomorrow night we’ll be taking our gifts to Tweed and his family. We’ll probably drop by after the Owen ballgame. Wednesday I think we’re gonna go up and play some basketball at the Salvation Army or somewhere. . . . God rest ye merry gentlemen
Penny Moss was a good friend from high school days. We’re still friends. The Tweeds were Mike — possibly my best friend in those days, although a good bit older — and his wife Bobbie, as well as their sons Brian and Scott.
Captain’s Log Stardate 8112.15 [a Tuesday]
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.
I didn’t give details the next day, so I’ll add just a few here. I signed a production deal with Nashville entrepreneur Earl Richards, and I think I signed a publishing deal at the same time. Earl would go on to produce two unreleased albums of my songs and ultimately cheat me — intentionally or not — out of early progress in Nashville.
Jump forward to six years later. I was living in Nashville — writing songs (or not), playing with the Cody band, enjoying great friendships, etc. The post below is from Tuesday, December 15, 1987. My previous entry had been on my 29th birthday, November 25, ’87, so I hadn’t let too much time pass. So, as Christmas that year approached, here’s what I was thinking . . .
Captain’s Log Tuesday, December 15, 1987
I’ve been since November 23, 1987 without cigarettes and I’m doing OK with it. My time at home over Thanksgiving was good and I came back to see one of the best concerts I’ve ever been to. It was U2 on 11/28/87 down in Murfreesboro. It was so good my reaction was like it always is in the face of something like that. I wanted to quit making music. I don’t feel that bad about it right now but I am concerned about my writing which has been non-existant [sic]. I blame it on this little place I live in but I can’t prove that to be the only answer. I come up with bits of lyric well enough but musically there is often slim pickin’s. The band has a gig in two nights and I’m hoping that will pick my spirits up. I rarely write from Thanksgiving through New Year’s but at the same time I rarely go from August to year’s end with only one song done. I’d best be praying it comes back or I’ll be needing a career change. Enough about that now, please! I testified at the trial for the bank robbery get-away I was witness to in July of ’86. I spent a couple of days last week at the courthouse, finally being called in to tell what I saw. There was only on[e] defendant that I saw in the courtroom. There were three men involved in July ’86. I could not identify any of them then or now. Anyway I did my bit during which I got to hear the defense attny say, “Objection, your Honor, prosecution is leading the witness!” to which the judge said, “Objection sustained.” I got a call today from Susan Mooreland at the Witness and Victim Service saying the jury had returned a guilty verdict, my help was appreciated and that I should have a nice Christmas. I’m not sure how I feel about that whole statement taken together at one time. As long as the man was truly guilty I guess I can let him go up the river or wherever and have my nice Christmas in good conscience. I read this book Mark and Becky gave me for my birthday. It is called This Present Darkness and it deals with the spirit world which it sees as all around us, all the time. Though the writing was not outstanding the book really sets a Christian to thinking about angels and demons and, more importantly, the power of prayer. I haven’t become a prayer warrior, unfortunately, but I’m a little more aware of my need to be. Hopefully I will learn to pray someday and will really be able to touch my Maker, my God. I have my problems with not realizing how worthy of my praise God is. I have my problems with not realizing how unworthy of God’s light and love I am. I guess I live on grace! Thanks you Father for grace!
Christmas is very soon and I’m in a bad mood for it. I plan on getting out of town here a bit early this year to try to slow down and see the coming of Christ, feel it as real in my life.
The “little place” was a one-room + bath space that I lived in on West End Avenue, where I had room for my bed and space to walk alongside it to the toilet/shower. But it was free, located on the first floor of Cathi King’s apartment/condo building near the intersection of West End and White Bridge Road. . . . As for the scene in the courtroom, in July 1986, I had walked from my place on 16th Avenue to check my mail at the Post Office in Hillsborough Village, which I think was on Acklen Avenue. As I was either going in or coming out of the PO, a vehicle caught my attention as it pulled in to the little parking lot across 20th Ave S from the PO lot. Three men burst out of the vehicle and jumped into another vehicle and sped away. I thought it odd and remembered it when that evening–or sometime soon after–Noel Hudson told me that a nearby branch of Commerce Union Bank had been robbed. (Noel worked for Commerce Union at the time, not at the branch that was robbed but the big corporate office downtown in Nashville.)
At 61, I can imagine that I might not be playing gigs too much longer. I’m aware that the Rolling Stones are still playing, as are my heroes Bruce Springsteen and Ian Anderson (of Jethro Tull fame), but these have been able to make gigging their life, which I haven’t done. Don’t get me wrong — I can play for three solid hours, just like the Boss, and as long as Leesa is listening, I’m content to do so. But if I want to continue playing for myself and the few others who listen, then I can do that at home–at mine or theirs. Anyway, I’ll start trying to commemorate the events I have left to me– descriptions of the place and the people in attendance, pictures from the staging area, set lists, etc.
The Riverside Taphouse had set up a tent that extended from its back door into the parking lot. It was a white tent, with, I think, windows that gave an impression of being in a room. Owners Michael and Cheri, formerly one of my honors students at ETSU, had set up a small but plenty-big-enough stage for me. The room had outdoorsy tables and two large heaters like umbrellas, one of which went off and stayed off, with the other joining in that state sometime near the end of the gig. While I was plenty warm doing my thing and Leesa seemed warm enough doing hers, the folks sitting throughout had to be cold!
When Leesa and I arrived, the front table was already occupied by 3-4 young couples and their children. The adults were eating and drinking, and the children, when not eating, were doing the things kids do. They weren’t as disruptive as the might have been. One boy even did a bit of the Floss (a dance) to a song of mine. These folks talked and half listened. They didn’t annoy me, and I didn’t seem to annoy them.
At other tables around the room were different groups of friends. At one table sat Teresa and Randy, good friends from Jonas Ridge, NC, who come out to hear me whenever they can. They are kind and faithful! At another table sat friends Loretta, Glenda and Tubby, Dave and Renea, and some of the latter couple’s friends. At the back table sat some of my beloved ETSU colleagues and friends: Alan and Barbara, Thomas, Theresa and Tim. And at the back, to the side, a fellow in an ETSU hoodie sold bags of a caramel popcorn-like treat that was darn tasty.
Pictures didn’t happen this time, but they will in the future. Set lists and notes are included below.
The Street I Live On — After my brief intro, which I don’t always do in solo performances (“Peep shows, pawn shops, Neon Rosie’s Lounge, / the Broadway Drugs & Diner, the Storefront Ministry, and the mission soup kitchen”), I mistakenly launched into the second verse first; so, I had to sing the first verse second. This wasn’t a problem for me or for listeners, as the narratives are only within verses, not across verses.
Freedom, Love, and Forgiveness (request) — sung with Leesa, of course. A couple of interesting things happened. First, a young man had come in, pulled up a chair, and sat listening through “The Street I Live On,” “Homecoming,” and “Empty Islands,” after which he got up to leave. As Leesa was coming up to the stage, Dave Smith caught the youngster and guided him back to the chair, saying, “You’re gonna want to hear this” (or some such words). Later, when Leesa and I were packing up, the caramel puffs salesman came up to tell us a story about when he and his wife were living somewhere in Illinois, I think. They once visited a local record store to attend a record release party for a Christian recording artist they’d never heard of — one Thom Shumate, who had a new album called Promise of Love. He was excited to hear us sing “Freedom, Love, and Forgiveness,” which he said was his wife’s and his favorite song on the album. When he learned that I wrote the song, he was amazed. We were all three amazed at this small-world moment. (Here’s Thom Shumate’s version of the song, with my friend Ashley Cleveland singing the female part, from an album produced by my friend Mark Chesshir.)
Maybe I had intimations of where I was going, even back then. Check out the Walt Whitman quotation on the cover.
I like to think that I never went back to that little church in the mountains, that I walked out on that preacher, whoever he was, just as my father had walked out on another — with all of us in tow — some years before. (A story for another time.) But my next post in the December 6-12 range, this one from a year later, in 1981, has me back there — with a new attitude.
Captain’s Log: Stardate 8112.06 [Sunday, December 6, 1981]
As seems almost usual for me on Sunday morning, I woke up ill at the world. The Lord knows how hard it is for me to get up before 11 AM. I almost decided not to go to church, like every Sunday, thinking that I got nothing from the small, country service. Then I realised, as always, that they are my people and, even though I may get nothing from the service, but seeing them and feeling their friendship, that is enough. Then I also come face-to-face with the fact that the singing I dread with such passion is for them and not for me, and that, being graciously given the gift from God, it is my duty to sing for them. It should also be my desire to do so. Well, Allen met me at the door asking if what he heard about me signing with Capitol was true and he was followed closely by Butch asking the same. I quickly gave them my practiced explanation about Townhouse but they were still pleased. When time for me to sing came around, as I was getting my guitar, Raymond spoke up about my struggles with my music and my witness for the church and my hopefully impending record deal. Then totally unexpectedly he suggested a standing ovation for me and I was overwhelmed. If it’s not the Lord’s will that all this go through all right, He sure is planning to teach me a great lesson in disappointment. Even at that, though, this morning was a great blessing and I am very thankful for all those people there.
As far as my music and career go, I am constantly trying to ask with a sincere hear that the Father’s Will be done and not my own. I could live with losing this deal but not with going against His plans for me.
Oh, in church I sang “A SONG FOR CAROLINA” and “DEAR MOTHER.”
The rest of the day was the usual big chicken dinner and lazy Sunday afternoon. I did, however, add music to and edit some lyrics I wrote last night called “DO YOU EVER MISS ME”
We practiced for the Christmas program this evening then I returned home to watch “YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN” on the tube.
As always it is quite late as I write this so I’ll sign off for now . . . MC
“A Song for Carolina” is the song mentioned in the previous post for which 600 people gave me a standing ovation. While I’m sure I have somewhere the lyrics for it and “Do You Ever Miss Me,” I remember almost nothing about them. “Dear Mother” is still with me.
Captain’s Log Stardate 8112.07 [Monday, December 7, 1981]
Today marked the 40th anniversary of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor beginning World War II and the eve of the first anniversary of the death of John Lennon. Despite such depressing circumstances, I had a great day. I went to Ron’s office and Royal was there. We all talked and laughed a lot then Ron decided that, us guys being the Surefire Family, we should have our Christmas party while Royal was free here in town, so plans were laid. I then went to kick around the Mall a bit and run some errands for Mom on my way home. After a short nap, I headed for Ron’s where we all celebrated with much steak and fixin’s. The evening was wild and crazy and led in these aspects by Ronnie, the boy was going crazy. Ron and Patty gave me a nice vest. I spent most of the evening sitting with Cindy, laughing as seems usual with us. I don’t really know where she and I are heading or where either wants to be heading but we seem to be drawing closer . . . Scary!
“Ron” was Ron Weathers, who was my manager and owned a booking agency called Surefire Productions. Patty was his wife and Ronnie his son by a previous marriage. “Royal” was “Little Royal” Brown, nightclub performer and half-brother of the King of Soul, James Brown. Seriously. Cindy had been my friend since the days when we were both music majors at Mars Hill College, and she worked for Ron at the Surefire office.
Captain’s Log Stardate 8112.08 [Tuesday, December 8, 1981]
Today was pretty full. After rising at 11:00 AM I drove to Asheville to see Ron and Cindy then I headed on down to Hickory to pick up the masters on “Just You and Me” and “Take Me in Your Arms”. I stayed for an hour talking and joking with Glen, Tim, and Mark. They all wish me will and in doing so they wish themselves well because I hope to someday be able to have them as part of my band. They are great guys and great musicians.
I came home and Joe was back from school so we went Christmas shopping in Asheville and the late night was for watching TV and such. Cindy stays on my mind a lot these days. I don’t know if it’s just sparks of infatuation or if “something’s burning”. We’ve had a lot of good talks and good times since August or so but I just don’t know. It would be very nice as long as it just wasn’t for my music (or “wasn’t just for my music). A lot of girls would give me reason to believe such but not Cindy; she’s not so shallow. She’s very smart and sensitive. An excellent “catch” for a jerk like me.
Glen was a keyboard player who owned a little recording in Hickory, NC, and he was somebody that Ron knew. Glen’s guys Tim and Mark played guitar and bass, or maybe one of them played drums. My cousin Joe Plemmons was, at this time, attending UT-Knoxville.
Revisiting old journals from my Mars Hill College and Nashville lives.
These are from December, 1977, near the end of my first semester as a flute major at Mars Hill College. For those who don’t know, the “jury” I keep worrying about is like a final exam in applied music study — flute, in my case.
Captain’s Log: 120.677
It’s 8:00 AM and snowing. It really looks good. I told Phil on Saturday that it was gonna snow today. I hope to pass all of my tests and go to the ballgame tonight. At the ballgame I hope to see Madison beat Reynolds and Leesa. . . .
Phil Shuford lived across from me in Spilman Hall. And, of course, I didn’t hope to see Madison beat Leesa.
Captain’s Log: Supplimental
Today has ended rather boring, but well. I made 84 on my Math 110 test so I’m out of there with an 87.
It continued snowing and freezing the rest of the day so the games were called (I didn’t get to see Leesa). We all sat around tonight listening to music then watching “Houston, We’ve Got a Problem.”
I’m not correcting spelling or punctuation. Yes, I know it’s supplemental.
Captain’s Log: Stardate 120.777
I ain’t doing nothing but waiting and worrying about my jury on Friday. I’m usually not one to sweat but this is so important it seems dangerous not to worry. But I think I’ll stop worrying and just practice all day tomorrow and do my best. Tomorrow night is the Christmas Pageant dress rehearsal and then the pageant is Friday and Saturday.
Captain’s Log: Stardate 120.877
Today was a good’un, I really enjoyed it. Tomorrow I’ve got my jury at 10:10, work at 11:00, C&M audition at 2:00, take Phil to Asheville, Band, and finally the pageant. It will be pretty busy but I think I can handle it; after jury I know I can.
Tonight we had a rehearsal in the courthouse for the pageant. I made a new friend in Ellen Jenkins. She is a ’75 graduate of MHC and is now teaching voice here. She’s doing some solos for the choir.
Captain’s Log: Stardate 120.977
I am so relieved to have “jury” over with. I played this morning and my lip was so dry I could hardly control it. I could have played better, but I did well enough to pass so I’m not that worried. Tonight we did our first of two pageants and it went of real well, I’m really enjoying working with that bunch.
I’ve got plans for next semester; I’m gonna work on that flute ’til it starts being second nature to play.
I’ve got rehearsals all day tomorrow and the second pageant tomorrow night I’ll really be glad to get out of here.
Saturday was a day to be slack. I didn’t enjoy as much slack as I had hoped though. I got up at 8:00 to get ready for flute choir at 9:30 and band at 10:30. We had youth group practice at 5:00 and then the pageant that night; a pretty musical day!
Today was about the same except all the practice became performing. This morning, in front of the four combined Walnut churches, our youth group received and gave some fantastic blessings from the mighty Lord through us. The cantata came off beautifully. Then this afternoon we had instrument concert in which I participated in the flute choir and concert band; it came off well this afternoon. I think Mom and Dad were very proud of me and that makes me feel good ’cause I’m a product of their lives together.
Captain’s Log: Stardate 121.277
It’s been an easy day here toward the end of the semester. I slept late, took Yogi to the bus station, and worked at the bookstore. I think I may have made some advances with Anita tonight. She’s a really nice girl and deserved the $5.00 I gave her for Christmas. Right now I’m sitting and watching Dallas beat San Fran and I hope they hold on. I guess I’ll get down to business and write a couple of critiques.
Yogi [?] was Phil Shuford’s roommate; I think the Anita mentioned is Anita Miller, who was my piano accompanist for solo flute lessons and performances (and $5 was a lot for a college student in 1977).
As is apparent above, I was, at first, fairly diligent in my journaling. This didn’t continue. The entry below is from December 9, 1980, and it’s one of my catch-up journal visits. My last confession prior to this was February 26 of that year. At that time, February, I was in the midst of my first sojourn to Nashville, studying as a music business major at Belmont College (Spring 1980).
Captain’s Log: Stardate 120.980
Time has not wasted itself on me. I has zoomed by, only waving as it passed, laughing. It is December on Earth and I am back in my own bed. An update follows.
I worked at Opryland for about six weeks but after a senseless day when I almost froze to death I quit. I found another job with TRIUNE MUSIC / TRIANGLE RECORDS, working in the mail room. The people there were great and I loved it while it lasted. However, after school was out all I wanted was to come home so as I usually do, I followed my heart right back to Carolina. Taylor joined the Navy so I didn’t really leave anything behind. At home I started work for Mike Tweed in his sports store . . . Joey and Charlene broke up . . . I started school at UNC-A . . . I met and began going out with Hannah Anderson . . . To regress back to the summer I had a gospel group for a time but we broke up . . . I saw Dallas Holm in concert at Opryland on July 4 . . . Back to the time table, I played Vivaldi’s Concerto in D major “Il Cardellino” at John Johnson’s long awaited wedding on Nov. 1 . . . I sang for 600 people at an awards banquet and received a standing ovation [see picture & article below] . . . I turned 22 . . . I broke up with Hannah at about the same time Dec. 8 as John Lennon was being murdered in NYC.
This all brings us to today where there’s little to report. Maybe tomorrow . . .
From Madison County’s weekly newspaper THE NEWS RECORD, sometime in the latter half of 1980.
I sang a Larry Gatlin song as my audition to be a performer at Opryland, but halfway through a booming voice interrupted me with a second or third “Thank you.” They were looking for performers, which has never really been my thing. Anyway, I ended up working the flume (log) ride for a few weeks, until they made us work all of a cold, rainy day in March (with almost nobody in the park). As I was driving home that night, it was still raining and I was worn out. Just as the light at the corner of Edgehill and 17th Avenues turned green and I touched the gas, a jogger ran right across the intersection in front of me. I think it was Willie Nelson.
I lived in a single room (bathroom and kitchen shared with three others) in a house on 17th Avenue South. One was a pothead, whose name I don’t remember. Bob, maybe. Another was an Alabama guitar player whose name I can’t forget — Clovis Hitson. The third was the fellow mentioned above as headed for the Navy — Taylor Binkley.
1031 17th Avenue South – This is how the house appears today. In the spring of 1980, it wasn’t quite this presentable. Where you see the window on the upper left, a sort of balcony looked out of the street. I could access it through a window in my room. I paid $108 per month — or maybe (probably) Mom and Dad did.
As for UNCA in the fall of 1980, I made it through half a semester as an English major before I quit to work at Tweed’s sports store, to stay up late writing songs, to begin playing lounges and restaurant around the area. (I didn’t return to school until January 1991.)
John Lennon was murdered on December 8, the day before my entry, and the Sunday following, the 14th, might have been the last time I had much of anything to do with the church I (mostly) grew up in. That Sunday morning the redneck preacher got up and blasted Lennon for being an atheist (“Imagine there’s no heaven”) and a Communist (“Imagine there’s no countries”). I hope that I thought, Imagine there’s no ignorant preachers. . . . Still makes me sad and angry.
So, I started this post on Wednesday, December 4, 2019, but then — needing to head out to meet Sam for beer, wings, and conversation — decided to put it aside for a “Throwback Thursday” visit to my old diaries. I know it’s now actually the 5th, but I’m going to stick with these entries I found for December 4s in 1977 and 1981.
Singing at the Walnut United Methodist Church with Aunt Ernie, Mike and Bobbie Tweed, and Mom (probably beside Ernie). This is probably a bit later than 1977, but it’s close enough.
December 4, 1977, near the end of my first semester as a flute major at Mars Hill College . . .
Captain’s Log: Stardate 120.477
I haven’t felt this tired in I don’t [know] how long. I haven’t really done anything so I guess it must be the dread of exams coming. I was down practicing flute and nearly fell asleep in the middle of a scale.
I spent the whole day singing. Led singing this morning in SS and church, then at 2:30 we started practice for the pageant and practiced til we left at 5 o’clock to come out to Walnut and practice another hour-and-a-half.
I didn’t take Leesa out tonight. I decided it would be best to study tonight and tomorrow night and see her Tuesday at the ballgame. I wonder why she suddenly decided to get in touch with me, on her own, after so long, but it don’t bother me none. Yet, I think it does bother Mom and I’m not sure why. I guess I need to find out. . . .
December 4, 1981, when I was living at home in Walnut, writing songs and working at Mike Tweed’s sport store in west Asheville.
Captain’s Log Stardate 8112.04
Since I got up this morning it has been snowing but the ground’s too warm and it’s not laying at all. All day long I’ve just listened to the radio. I talked to Ron a couple of times but it was just BSing. Once I called him because I heard a song Sonny Limbo, a friend of Ron’s, produced. It’s on the charts and called “Key Largo” and it’s pretty good. The evening is take up with TV, reading, and writing. I did a little work on “Friday Night Serenade.” . . .
In my room at the homeplace in Walnut, with pictures of the AESU boys (in Madrid, 1979) at my right elbow and Ernie’s cross-stitch of “Heartsong,” a favorite among my originals back in those days.
I’ll try to make Throwback Thursday a regular thing here, although it’ll probably be more regular-ish. And next week, December 12, I’ll try to find entries from the correct date!
In the late 1980s, I was still living in Nashville. By some means, probably through my manager Dixie Gamble, I received a script for an upcoming film titled Next of Kin, with a cast headed by Patrick Swayze and Liam Neeson and including Helen Hunt, Bill Paxton, Ben Stiller, Adam Baldwin, and others. The production team was seeking songs for an interesting story of three Gates brothers from the coal culture in eastern Kentucky. Briar (Neeson) is eldest, Truman (Swayze) is in the middle, and Gerald (Paxton) is youngest.
Briar works in the coal business, but Truman has moved to Chicago, where he’s a police detective whose beat covers the city’s hillbilly slums, where lots of southern Appalachian immigrants, particularly Kentucky folk, live. These two brothers are fighting over Gerald’s future. Will he stay home and work the mines, or will he leave the mountains behind for a different life beneath the big city’s sea of light?
As the movie begins, Gerald is in Chicago, but he’s planning to stay there only to earn enough money to put a down payment on his own coal truck. Unfortunately, the work Gerald gets in is a business run by a Chicago mob family, so the poor boy isn’t long for this world. When his honesty gets him killed, Truman wants to find the killer(s) through the legal channels, but Briar becomes impatient and leaves Kentucky for Chicago, where he plans to bring down the hammer of hillbilly justice.
SPOILER ALERT: Briar dies at the hands of the same mob, and Truman throws away all efforts to go by the book, turns in his badge, beckons agents of justice (i.e., revenge) from the hills (including a bow-and-arrow marksman and a feller with a school bus full of snakes), and battles the mob in a vast Chicago cemetery.
I wrote “Homecoming” for the end of the film, after the cemetery scene, when Truman, the only brother to survive Chicago, is taking his wife Jessie (Hunt) home to eastern Kentucky. The script described a scene in which the camera’s point of view is in the vehicle with Truman and Jessie, then the visual pulls back through the rear window to reveal that they’re driving Briar’s old pickup truck with Briar’s coffin in the bed. The visual then pulls further back and rises upwards to reveal the pickup to be on a two-lane highway with the outlines of the Appalachian Mountains rising into the sky ahead of them.
If I die In this place so far from home And I never make my living From my native soil again, Don’t leave me where these strangers Will walk across my bones. Take me back and lay me with my next of kin. . . .
At one point I heard that “Homecoming” was one of eight songs in the running for the end of the film, and I remember being very excited about it. But the song didn’t make the final cut. When Next of Kin came out in 1988, I learned that they’d changed the ending. Instead of the lovely scene which inspired “Homecoming,” Truman simply goes back to his captain’s office and gets his badge and his job back. Then he goes outside, where he and Jessie get in their car or walk down the street or something equally unmemorable. Not that I would have minded having “Homecoming” playing through that or any scene!
By the way, the end-title song was “Brothers,” written by Larry Gatlin and performed by him and Patrick Swayze, or “Brother to Brother” by Greg Allman.
While it’s regretful that “Homecoming,” the song is quite possibly my favorite among the songs I’ve written, so I don’t regret the experience at all.
Here’s a video that I put together for a class for a faculty technology class at ETSU and made it about my home of Walnut, North Carolina.
Shiller, who is famous for predicting the dot-com crash and coming up with the Case-Shiller Home Price Index, is spending a lot of time looking at old newspaper clippings to understand what stories and terms went viral and how they influenced people to buy things — or stop buying things.
When asked if he’s essentially arguing for more English and history majors, Shiller said, “I think so,” adding: “Compartmentalization of intellectual life is bad.”
Shiller isn’t alone in wishing that there were more storytellers (and story analyzers) around. Every August, some of the world’s top economists gather in Jackson Hole, Wyo., to discuss how the economy is doing and how they should tweak their models. On the final day of events this year, Philip Lowe, head of Australia’s central bank, urged his colleagues to spend a little less time on numbers and more time on being good storytellers.
If you ever had any doubt that the current leader of the free world is an arrogant and ignorant man, then his self-serving and childish performance here should remove them.
Walnut United Methodist Church in Walnut, North Carolina, 2 September 1989 (L) Liberty Bridge in Greenville, South Carolina, 2 September 2019 (R)
On September 1, 1989, we didn’t have a wedding rehearsal. We opted, instead, for a cookout with our friends and family, which we held in the yard at the Reeves/Cody homeplace in Walnut. I won’t try to name everybody who was there, but we had a goodly crowd made up of folks from North Carolina, Tennessee, Pennsylvania, Georgia, Michigan — maybe other places as well. We celebrated until past dark, at which point Leesa went home and I retired to my bedroom to finish our wedding song, which had its debut at just after 11:00 the next morning, Saturday the 2nd of September.
Phil Madeira, friend and music man from Nashville, played piano, and Leesa walked in to “Someone to Watch Over Me.” My uncle Cloice Plemmons later said that those old church walls had probably never heard the like. Then I played “Soul Mates,” the song completed less than twelve hours before. One funny problem that came up during the ceremony — a problem that a rehearsal might have fixed — was that when my uncle Mack, who officiated, asked for the rings, our older son Lane (just turned thirteen at the time) dropped four into Mack’s open palm. He stared at them for a moment, then said, “Usually at this point in the ceremony I have two rings, but now I have four. I don’t know what to do.” Everybody laughed. Leesa told him that three of the rings were hers and one was mine.
It was a great morning, followed by a great afternoon reception on Glory Ridge. Good memories of good folks and a good time. As I would later write in a wedding song for Lane,
This love has got people in it. Some are here and some are gone.
This love has got people in it. Some have stayed and some moved on.
We have wandered across the years and miles in search of a clear direction, while some tangled memories maintained a mysterious connection to a corner of our hearts, whether together or apart, where love has waited patiently from the first day of our history.
Soul mates, sold out to fate— what happens from now on was planned before the dawn of time. Soul mates, so worth the wait— each the other’s gift from heaven like hand to glove or rhythm to rhyme.
Every true heart has the dream of flying without fear of falling. We stand on this ledge in answer to love’s higher calling. Gold to blue to gray to black with night and rain— it’s always the same big sky, and every inch is ours to fly.
Soul mates, sold out to fate— what happens from now on was planned before the dawn of time. Soul mates, so worth the wait— each the other’s gift from heaven like hand to glove or rhythm to rhyme.
When real life seems to steal the dream, don’t let it break your heart, though these bodies tight to this earth cling. We can still lean back in laughter, we can still take to the sky, ’cause these hearts have earned their wings.
