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Stanley later recorded. Mom didn’t play an instrument, but she’d write out what she could and Dad would help her work out the melody on his guitar. She wrote a lot of love songs when Dad was away working and she was missing him. He’d be on her mind, and she’d wake up in the middle of the night thinking of lyrics. She’d jump out of bed and jot down the words before she’d forget. She said the songs would just come to her.
    I was thinking about my mom the other day when I was listening to “Mother’s Only Sleeping” by Bill Monroe, one of his most popular records. It was one of her favorites. Not having my mother now makes me realize how this song touches people when they hear it. Mama was such a powerful influence: Her singing and songwriting inspired me, her words encouraged me, and her prayers always kept me safe.
    The songwriting gift my mom had, I didn’t get. I haven’t been blessed that way, not so far, anyhow. I keep believing that one day I’m gonna get real inspired to write songs. I don’t think you can force it; at least I can’t. It may never happen for me, but I’m hoping it will.
    Music is a calling, and I mean that literally, too. I remember I’d be out goofing around in the woods, and Mom would stand on the front step of our house and holler, “Lester and Earl’s on!” Her voice could travel a mile, and no matter where I was, I heard her loud and clear. The Flatt & Scruggs TV show was sponsored by Martha White flour. It was syndicated on television stations all over the South. The show brought Lester and Earl and their red-hot band, the Foggy Mountain Boys, into the living rooms of millions, and it had helped make Flatt & Scruggs the most popular bluegrass act in the country. I’d take off as hard as I could run, on back to the house. The music had a pull on me like nothing else, not even the call of the woods.
    At the time, I didn’t know what “child prodigy” meant, and nobody ever said it. Prodigy was not a word we threw around in Kentucky back then. People would just smile and say, “That boy’s got a lot of talent. God’s given him a gift.” And those words stuck with me. You’d be surprised how much a child is influenced by words. My mom always reminded me that the Lord had given me my gifts, but she didn’t make me feel like I had to pay Him back by only playing gospel. As if I could ever pay back the Lord’s kindness to me.
    My mother said those words to me to remind me that my talent didn’t come out of nowhere; it came from the Creator. Her words were full of joy and blessing, and they poured into me. I knew I had to use the gift the best I could and not let it go to waste.
    See, Dad gave me the mandolin and love for music, but my mom gave me a faith. Through her example I learned the importance of praying and trusting in God. Without those pillars, the gift of music, though wonderful, would not be enough to uplift my spirit and satisfy my heart. Mom taught me only Jesus can have that place. I always remembered what my mother taught, even when I wasn’t all the way living up to it. Mama was doing what she always did: preparing me for the road I’m on now, the road I’ve been traveling for most of my life.

Chapter 4
CHASING A DREAM
    Like a sinner’s penance, the Ryman was austere, its wooden benches harsh, its roof offering no respite from the sapping summer heat. It was the weekend home of the Grand Ole Opry, a country radio show regarded as a sacred monument. . . . The Opry was revered by all who loved country music for its authority and grandeur .
    â€” Are You Ready for the Country , by Peter Doggett
    A night at the Opry is a concoction of color, confusion, country culture, and corn. To observe the show is to see a spectacle rooted in the American grain. . . . “New York advertising people just don’t believe it when they see