Grant - Mosaic: pieces of my life so far

CONTENTS

Every Road
Every road thats traveled Teaches something new

Heirlooms
Time never changes, The memories, the faces Of loved ones

Lead Me On
Lead me on To a place where the river runs Into your keeping

Takes a Little Time
It takes a little time sometimes To get your feet back on the ground

To my children

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

NOTHING ABOUT MY LIFE would look the way it does now had it not been for the years of creative, emotional, and spiritual investment made in me by Michael Blanton, Dan Harrell, Jennifer Cooke, and Chaz Corzine. Each of us walked into the others lives at just the right time.

I met Dan in 1971, when I was ten, Mike in 1974, Chaz in 1984, and Jen in 1989, when I was twenty-eight. All these years, in whatever configuration, Ive had the security of knowing that I was represented by one of the most highly respected, trendsetting management teams in our business.

Thank you, Blanton Harrell Cooke & Corzine, for focusing your amazing strengths and energies on my career. It would take another book to hold the memories that we all share. Let me say that as much as Ive enjoyed the career opportunities, what I appreciate the most about each of you goes way beyond the music. As long as youve been watching out for me, Ive been watching you.

Jen, your drive and determination and your ability to be energized by work has made the sometimes overwhelming responsibilities of my job doable. Many of us have benefited from your tenacity, never giving up on a task or a person or a dream (Braden). Ive always been able to count on having you beside me in the trenches. You are a true music fan, and that has made every off-the-beaten-path performance an adventure. Your quirky sense of humor, your steel-trap memory, and your ability to tell a story make me look forward to the day when you write your book.

Chaz, watching you love and care for your parents until the end of their lives, hearing your constant calls home to check on Deaver and the kids, and seeing you celebrate everything about your children has affected the way I embrace my own family. Of course, you always make me laugh, and I credit you with my best one-liners. Youve made connections for me to people and events that I never would have had the confidence to pursue on my own, but your networking goes way beyond the surface. You are loyal and unassuming and have the rare quality of naturally extending the benefit of the doubt, making each of us want to be as fine a person as you believe us to be.

Mike, when I was a kid, just the sound of your voice on the phone, calling our house to speak to one of my sisters, made the mood brighter, making me like you before Id ever seen your face. Your invitation to come to church youth group changed me forever. During my precarious teenage years, you taught me about the love and mercy of God, about the way he sees me. Youve never been afraid of flooding a person with words of encouragement and hopeIve been carried on those waves of inspiration through every stage of my life. Every creative leap we have dared to attempt has been fueled by your vision. Thank you for believing in me for so long and so well that I have finally come to believe in myself.

Dan, Im so glad you married my sister thirty-five years ago. Thank you for the way youve loved her. If I have stayed relatively unaffected by such a public life, it is because of you. You know and understand me in the context of our whole family and have always provided the bridge between my two worlds of work and homenot just for me but for all of us. At times I have been shortsighted and consequently distrustful about the road I am on. Your cavalier pep talks and candid observations about my strengths and weaknesses (there are some things only family can say) have been the iron against which my iron has been sharpened. You are a good and trustworthy man, and I rely on the strength of your steadying arm.

Amanda and Traci, thank you for talking me off the ledge on the big meltdown day.

Deanna, thank you for twenty-two years of organizing and maintaining my whole life so that I could pursue my creative gifts. Phyllis, its 10 p.m., do you know where my children are? Dee and Sis, we make a great team.

Dudley, thank you for the opportunity to spread my writers wings a little bit and stretch beyond the confines of a three-minute song. Your editing ability was inspiring. How nice to be guided by a veteran writer.

Bev, I never could have attempted a project like this one without help. Your love of language, your organizational skills, your respect of schedules and deadlines, your focus, your quiet townhome, our decades-long relationship as friends and co-workers gave me the confidence that this project would be completed on time. Thank you for applying your gifts to yet another endeavor in my life. Chartwell Literary Group is lucky to have you. Of course, you know I welcome any opportunity to share your company and drink your lattes. This experience ranks among the memories of our first garden at Riverstone and our trip to Israel.

Vince, I know youre not looking for a long, drawn-out thank you, but I need to say that your wordsspoken day in and day out into my lifehave changed the way I feel about myself and about love. Thank you for filling our home with music and my heart with laughter.

You see me for who I am and always have. I see you too, and I love you.

INTRODUCTION

I USED TO ROLL MY EYES when I would hear about someone writing a book just because a deal came across the table. Ive always believed that real writers are formed from the ground up. They know from the beginning that they want to write, they dream of writing, they keep their noses to the grindstone for years, they suffer rejection after rejection from publishers, and finally one day, miraculously, they get a breakthrough. Real writers emerge from some magical, solitary existence, having lived an otherworldly life.

Despite not feeling like a real writer, Ive always wanted to write a book. Not necessarily one for publication, but a collection of the memories that have occupied my thoughts and become my stories over the yearsthe ones that have inspired many of my songs. When a publisher approached me with the concept for Mosaic, I welcomed the opportunity; however, I soon discovered that thinking about writing a book and actually writing a book are two very different experiences. Suddenly I feared I had nothing to saythat none of my stories were interesting at all. Passing bookstore windows would make me sweat, as I pictured my face on one of those book covers and imagined another passerby commenting, Shes not a real writer.

Then one day I came home to find a velveteen box on my desk. The Post-it note stuck to the top read, Heres Dumbos feather. Love, Dan. Dan Craner is an old friend, an artisan woodworker. Inside the box was a beautiful, handmade, wooden pen. When I called Dan to say thank you, he said, Amy, I dont know what youll write in this book, but I know youll discover it as you go. And now let me tell you about the wood I used to make your pen.

It comes from southern Mississippi, from a tree that was cut down to build a cabin in 1800. The tree was over two hundred years old when the cabin was built. I know because I counted the growth rings on some of the cross sections myself. Just think, Amy, when that tree was a sapling in about 1590, Galileo was under house arrest for claiming that the earth wasnt the center of the universe.