Reflections on my upbringing, fatherhood, and trying to be a better person.
One of my first employers was a man named Bob Carr. He had about an acre of rolling garden beds next to his family home on the north side of town. He sold flowers and shrubs, and hosted a garden tour every summer that was like a miniature Woodstock for old people. On Saturdays, I […]
An Amen for Bob Carr Read More »
On Tuesday mornings, the garbage truck would come into my five-year-old view from the staircase window—the truck’s square nose pausing in front of Mr. Rugland’s hedges. The worker hanging on in back would hop off at Mr. Wenzel’s driveway, tossing one or two small bags into the truck. Mr. Wenzel was the high school English
Garbage Day and the Lost Rhythm Read More »
Last night I placed a small Bluetooth speaker on the top cupboard shelf in the kitchen, hit play on my iPhone, then set off to do the dishes. The only thing strange about this scenario was the musician I chose. He’s somebody I never put on. “Who are we listening to?” asked August, my eleven-year-old.
What My Family Thinks of My Next Album Read More »
In Thailand it’s common to see monks in orange robes walking the streets in sandals or barefoot. Their denial of earthly possessions and comforts is inspiring. Early in the morning I see them carrying urn-shaped containers. They stop and people put things inside—pieces of paper or wrapped candy. The monks then chant while the person
A Monk Walks Down the Street Talking Into a Smartphone Read More »
Every once in a while I stumble across something in the archives that reminds me how a song really started. “Small Town” began on a long drive back to Denver after spending several unexpected weeks in my hometown of Roseau, Minnesota. The Song I like small towns The nights are quiet No interstate highways Screamin’
Small Town: The Story Behind the Song Read More »
When I can, I like to get up early. I do this because I have four boys under the age of fourteen. They are like unconscious flies on a cold windowsill. As soon as the room warms, or the sun shines on the glass long enough, they begin to stir, then walk around, then buzz.
Closed Captions of a Quiet Morning Read More »
Last month in Vietnam, I started The Postcard Club. The plan was simple: buy postcards from a local shop, write a handwritten note to each member, and mail them off. The problems began when I couldn’t find any postcards I liked. They all felt overly calendar-photo-y. So I thought, maybe I’ll just sketch a little
How Not to Mail a Postcard from Vietnam Read More »
Hi Jaime, Noah is friends with me, not the other way around! Joking, of course. I met Noah a month before his nineteenth birthday—before he could rock such a great beard. (Still, he had pretty good stubble.) It was December of 2015. He came to Nashville to work on songs for his debut album. My
Jamie asks, “Are you friends with Noah Kahan or is that just a rumor?” Read More »
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
Protected: How to Bomb an Audition Read More »
That’s what I was doing when I overheard two guys talking in the men’s bathroom in my dorm hall. Aerospace students, dressed smartly with combed hair. “This is huge,” one of them said. I had just turned 20 at the University of North Dakota. After hearing them talk—about what I still wasn’t sure—I walked to
On 9/11, I Was Brushing My Teeth Read More »