A few years ago my folks were visiting me, and my Dad and I went for a walk around my neighborhood with a couple of cigars. He told me that he’d been in Nashville quite a bit in the ‘60s, and on his last trip a big-name country star (name dropping is not essential to the story) had taken him under his wing and given him a place to stay at this big flophouse the star rented for aspiring musicians and songwriters.

“This was gonna be it. But after a few days, I looked around at all these guys, leaving their wives and kids, most of them not going back ‘cause this was their big shot, and I just said ‘I’m better than this’. I missed your mother, and I went home.”

Integrity. I think about that, on some level, every night.