About
Montana roots — Tammy Wynette, Johnny Horton, the old country my family sang before I ever picked up a pen. I write Appalachian-twangy, chamber-soaring songs, harmonica and voice answering each other the way call and response always has, for the ones who walked past the well-worn road into something wider and never had to reject where they started to get there. I’ve spent over forty years as an archivist and community historian, keeping the stories of recovery fellowship heritage alive — the women who made the phone calls nobody remembers, the ones who saved the houses before they were called historic, the keepers of the keys who never asked for the spotlight. A month ago, I started setting those stories to music instead of just filing them away. My spiritual home is New Thought — Emmet Fox, Ernest Holmes, Florence Scovel Shinn — built on top of a lifetime of daily practice, not instead of it. Believer-rooted, metaphysician by daily habit, still climbing. I don’t think of myself as the singer. I think of myself as the instrument these stories move through — the reed the wind passes over, the string that answers back. I didn’t ask to carry this. I just haven’t put it down.