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It was 1934. I was sitting on stage at the National Barn in Chicago. In those days we all sat on the stage on bales of hay. My good friend Grace Wilson was singing in her beautiful contralto voice. She was probably no more than forty years old, but I remember promising myself, with all the arrogance of youth, "I'll quit before I get that old."

Well, friends, here it is 1995 and I'm still at it. Now I say, "As long as they want to hear my songs, I'll keep singing:' It's funny how your perspective changes with the passing years.

I'm always amazed that people still want to hear the old songs. I'm not sure I can analyze the reason. Maybe it's a nostalgic longing for the "good old days." Well, I'll tell you, they weren't always that good. Times were hard, but we had something that I'm not sure can be recaptured-a set of values, a sense of family and community that sends pangs of longing both through those of us who lived it and even those who only read about it. Some of my best and most attentive audiences are on college campuses. Amidst all the overstimulation and glitz of our modern times, I think people are searching for a simpler way.

If my story helps, I'm glad. This is my story and this is my song.

There is no sex or violence in this book -(see the products page) there could be, but there isn't; my heroes have always been cowboys.