Why We Can No Longer Be Friends

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Some of my earliest and fondest memories were of my folks sitting with company in the living room, drinking beer, laughing, and having a really good time. It was a very relaxed atmosphere. The TV was off, us kids were ordered to be still and quiet and not detract from the visit. There were no cell phones back then and the land line phone (yes that is phone, singular) never rang anyway. It always struck me as a very comfortable environment. It was this type of setting and environment that I always envisioned myself hosting and taking part in as an adult. That’s not how it worked out for me.

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Songwriter’s Journal: Anywhere But Here

The small town trap. Growing up in a small town can be a double-edged sword. For me, it offered an ideal venue for my childhood and upbringing. Like most young teenagers I couldn’t wait to get out into the world to do and see new things. As the launch date approaches, a seeded resentment begins to grow. Pretty soon the small town becomes the scapegoat for every genuine or perceived shortcoming that one can experience.

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We All Break Down

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A few days ago the call came in. The first thing I heard was “I have a problem.” As it turns out the van decided once it was filled up with gas it would not start again. So, right at the gas pump in a busy Walmart parking lot the van sat motionless, with the back full of groceries.

“I’ll come get the groceries.”

The next day we got the ludicrous bill of $400 for clearly the most luxurious starter on planet earth.

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Songwriter’s Journal: When The Light Changes

Things were changing in a big way. That’s why a five day trip to an out of the way cabin in Arkansas was so welcomed. Even better, the cabin had no internet and no phone service. It seemed that I had forgotten the value of being totally unplugged. As soon as we dropped our bags we knew that nothing going on back in the real world could be dealt with until we went home later in the week. This caused a weight to be lifted off of our shoulders that we didn’t even know was there. The overt reason for the trip was to meet up with an old Marine buddy and write some music. A cabin in the mountains of Arkansas was selected because it was located near the halfway point of my home in Clarksville, Tennessee and Jake’s place in Sallisaw, Oklahoma. I didn’t realize just how fruitful the trip would be.

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