There are stories I can write at three in the morning from some hotel room in a city I’ll probably be leaving before breakfast. Then there are stories I have to say out loud. Those hit differently.
Danielle Elliott Smith invited me onto Hope Comes To Visit, and somehow we fit a pretty strange life into a conversation about forty minutes long. I went into it expecting to talk about Music Travel Repeat and The Venue Ledger. We did. But if you’ve spent any time around my writing, you probably know the music is rarely the entire point.
The music is what takes me back to the people. Sometimes that’s a person I loved. Sometimes it’s somebody I had to walk away from. Sometimes it’s my parents, who I’m learning to see as people with their own regrets, their own exhaustion, and a clock I can’t slow down no matter how much I’d like to.
We talked about taking Mom and Dad to see James Taylor. I thought I was giving them a concert. I wound up receiving an education I didn’t know I needed. I had spent years looking at my parents through the eyes of the hardheaded kid I used to be. That night, something shifted. Nobody pulled out a PowerPoint presentation on forgiveness. Nobody had to. We were just there, listening to music, and I finally saw them as my friends.
Related: James Taylor’s Wolf Trap Concert and the Father-Son Lessons I Didn’t Expect
We talked about the divorce, too. After it ended, I spent an astonishing amount of time alone in airports, on planes, and in hotel rooms. I started talking into my computer and eventually writing down the pieces. That habit became music travel repeat. Not because I had some grand plan to become a writer. Because I needed somewhere to put the things I couldn’t carry comfortably anymore.
Related: The Great Divorce: Why I Finally Asked For A Divorce ( Three Years Ago)
Then there’s a story that still sounds made up when I tell it. Years ago, I wound up at a Theory of a Deadman show at Rams Head Live in Baltimore. A bizarre chain of coincidences put me face to face with my biological mother. I’d been looking for information about my biological father. That night helped me connect the dots. Some people call that chance. I still think about being in the right place at the right time with the right people. Mark Batterson called that the Miracle Equation and I couldn't agree more.
We also talked about being a man who cries at movies and writes about feelings while working in a career people associate with intimidation. Twenty years working doors and later in executive protection taught me something different: you can either meet people at their worst with more anger, or you can try to understand what brought them there. The second way doesn’t make you weak. It makes you useful.
Related: Executive Protection: The Invisible Job Reality
And yes, we talked about the venue ledger. That whole monster started because I was traveling for work, landing in unfamiliar cities, and trying to find a decent concert on a night off. I wanted a simple answer to a simple question: where can I hear live music tonight? Apparently I decided the reasonable solution was to start documenting thousands of venues. I’m still going city by city, cleaning up listings, and making it easier to get to actual show calendars. I probably should have taken up golf.
Danielle made room for all those pieces without trying to turn any of them into an inspirational bumper sticker. I’m grateful for that. The interview isn’t a sermon. It’s a conversation between two people who know life can get ugly and still believe there’s something worth showing up for.
If you’ve got forty minutes, I’d love for you to listen. If you only have a few, start with the story about my parents or the encounter at Rams Head Live. Then call someone you’ve been meaning to call. Buy the ticket. Go to the show. Write the thing you’ve been afraid to write.
Because you never know which ordinary night is going to become one of the stories you carry for the rest of your life.
Catch You In The Chaos,
Haha Bailey