One of the sharpest memories you have is of your daddy.
You’re maybe 9. In his truck. Saturday night. The “Grand Ole Opry” is on the radio. Daddy’s driving past the ugly side of town.
It pains him to see this place. He’s emotional. Maybe a little drunk. He points out the house he grew up in as Minnie Pearl is on 650 WSM.
Daddy is telling you something. Something you’ve always remembered: “Poverty’s all about isolation,” he says. “Being poor is just another way of saying you’re lonely.”
You’ve thought about this. Over the years, you’ve come to the conclusion that Daddy was right.
When you’re isolated, you’re lonely. When you’re lonely, you have no network. No network; no opportunities. No opportunities equals no job. When you have no job, you have no money. When you have no money, you have a problem.
In the end, it comes down to people. If you have no people, you got nothing.
But then you already know this. Because you grew up poor. After your father took his own life, you had
no support system.
Mama’s family was split. Daddy’s family was even worse. Your boyhood friends quit calling. You quit going to Little League. Quit Boy Scouts. Dropped out of school.
A lot of people in those days didn’t know what to think about suicide, so they tried not to think about it at all.
But none of that matters now. What matters is that you grew up and something changed. Somehow you went to college. Somehow you became a writer and performer.
And much to your surprise, you started meeting new people. Lots of people. Good people.
Suddenly, you were meeting new friends at every event. You were still living in a 28-foot trailer, mind you. But you weren’t isolated anymore.
There was the little girl with spina bifida, who came to your first ever performance. She bought one of…