Summer, 1990. Matt, restless and tired of getting thrown out of Holiday Inn's, had packed up and left with some babe from Texas on a journey that would lead him to sing in Key West, Houston, and eventually Padre Island. Meanwhile, I had quit the music scene and continued in my career as a real estate baron, until I too found myself becoming restless. Living in Phoenix and having a "normal" job was boring the hell out of me. This is as good as it gets? This is what I was meant to become? This is it?

Early that fall, I had a conversation with my grandfather that planted the seeds of change in my mind. He had married back in 1929, was still madly in love with his wife, had traveled the world, seen all kinds of places and done all kinds of things. We talked about his life, and then we talked about mine. About where it was going. About what happiness really is. If I won the lottery and had all the money in the world, would I continue to sell real estate? The answer was no. But I knew that if money were not an issue, there were other things I'd do with my life. I had never gotten the love of music out of my system, and knew that if I had unlimited wealth you'd probably still find me singing in some dump of a bar somewhere but I wanted to take it further and record my own music. Share my songs with someone other than the jerk puking on the bar. When I left my grandfather's house that day, I suspected that the sun was setting on my future in the business world.

It didn't take long for that to happen. I found a job in the little town of Yarnell, Arizona teaching English to students from Mexico who had been raised together in an orphanage. Many of them were now out of high school: in fact several were just two or three years younger than me, and they were preparing to either head out into the world or return to the orphanage in Mexico to volunteer a year of service. The program brought me on board and provided me with a house and meals in exchange for teaching four or five classes a day. That left most of my afternoons and many of my Friday and Saturday nights open. I took advantage of all that free time by writing, practicing and learning every song I possibly could on guitar...sometimes I'd learn five or six in one week. And I finished a few new original tunes while I was at it.

One night I got my nerve up and played a few songs at a local tavern called "The Place". It was fun to be performing live again and exciting to be playing solo for the first time, but fifty bucks was beyond the owner's budget for live music, so that "audition" led to nothing but a hangover the next day.

Then it happened. I can't remember how, but I scored my first paid gig ever as a "solo artist". No speakers, no amps, just me and my guitar on a bar stool at the Tufa Tavern, located in Kirkland Junction about 15 miles up the highway from Yarnell. It was on that barstool that night that I learned quickly about the art of survival as a singer in a cowboy bar. There were only about a dozen guys in the place when I started singing, none paying any attention to me whatsoever as I made my way through Merle Haggard, George Jones, and Willie Nelson. The bartender kept the drinks coming so I didn't mind the lack of acknowledgement.until one of the gentlemen arose from his seat midway through one of my songs, introduced himself as "Guy", and flat out told me to shut up. When asked why, he informed me that he didn't like my music and if I didn't knock it off he was gonna clean my clock in the parking lot.

I had heard about scenes like this before (like in the movie "Deliverance") , but desperately needed the fifty bucks, so I offered him a deal. I told him to name a song.any song he wanted. If I could play it for him, he'd buy me a drink. If I couldn't, I'd kick my own sorry butt out of the bar and never play at the Tufa Tavern again. He couldn't pass up a deal like that. I still remember the smarmy grin on his face when he looked at me and said "OK, I know you don't know this oneJohn Conlee, "Rose Colored Glasses"

Thank God I had actually picked up the "John Conlee's Greatest Hits" cassette years before in a gas station somewhere.and "Rose Colored Glasses" was one of my all time favorite songs. I started to play and immediately he knew that his senses were to be bombarded with my tunes for the rest of the night. He walked out the door halfway through the song in shame, but returned with a baseball cap he had grabbed from out in the parking lot. He put it on my head just as I finished the song, stuck a drink in my hand, and proclaimed to the "crowd" that we were buddies. It was the first of many nights at the Tufa I'll never forget (and many more I wish I could recall!) By the way, Guy and I remained friends and he'd always get sheepish every time I'd recount that story. And I still love to sing that song!