Beth Nielsen Chapman (38:37)
Well, I was newly married and living in Alabama when my first record came out. And my husband Ernest and I were really excited about this. And I'd been planning on this since I was like 11. Unfortunately, its debut coincided with the dawn of the disco era and I wasn't a disco artist at all. So it was a total flop. And I had lovely reviews, but basically they said, too bad she didn't put this out like five years ago. So shortly thereafter, I lost my record deal and I got dropped from my publishing and I found out I was pregnant in the same week. And I was thrilled. I was like, great. Like, let's shelve the whole singer songwriter thing tried that. They didn't like me going, you know, forget that. And I went on and had this beautiful baby boy and I threw myself into motherhood. And all my creativity came out sideways. I started painting, I started baking bread. I was making these really cool little sculptures of these play DOH heads. Really doing great stuff, you know. And one night around 3:00 in the morning, he came up behind me. I was trying to get this nose just right. I was sitting at the kitchen table and I felt his hands on my shoulder. And he leaned in and he said, honey, it's time to start writing songs again. And I, something in me just went, no, no, no, no, no. I was totally in denial. But a couple of days later, we went to see this movie called Coal Miner's Daughter, which is about the life of Loretta Lynn. And I'm sitting there in the movie and there's this scene where there's Loretta Lynn, with four of her children climbing all over her, she's planting a vegetable garden and she's making up a song that turns out to be an iconic hit song for centuries. And, and I'm watching that and I'm thinking, man, I'm just being a big baby about this songwriting thing. I mean, I can write songs. I, I can do that. So I decided I'd get back to it just as a hobby. So I started writing songs again and, and as I had done in the past, I, I bounced them off on my husband, Ernest, and I'd play him stuff as I was working on it. I'd go, here's another one, honey. And he'd be like, yeah, you just keep on doing that. Just, just keep on writing more, Write more. You know, he didn't say anything bad or good. And I was like, okay. And anyway, he, he was very kind. But then one day I played him a song called Five Minutes. And when I finished it, I looked up and he was just beaming. He said, that's it, you're back. That's a hit. That's fantastic. And I'm like, really? And he goes, oh, absolutely. And by Friday you're going to send a tape with that song on it to these three people in Nashville, Tennessee, and you're going to plug back into the music business. And I was like, oh, oh, no, no, no. I'm just doing this for fun. He goes, oh, oh, yes, yes, you're going to do that by Friday or I'm going to start smoking again. So I had no choice. But the good news is I got a great response. And within six months we were packing up our little then five year old little boy and heading on and moving to Nashville, Tennessee, which was like an amazing, terrifying, wonderful, roller coaster ride of rejection and excitement and meeting people. And finally I started getting a little traction. And during those early years when we were there, I would always play my songs for Ernest before I'd let them leave the house because he had great suggestions. He wasn't a songwriter, but he was kind of a song doctor. So one night I played him this song. It was really just a part of a song. It was a verse and a chorus and it was kind of weird. It was, it was an unusual kind of song for me to write at that time. And it referred to our honeymoon. It was kind of like from my life. But then it wasn't, because there was this couple of other lines that were very sad and there was one line that was in the hollow of your shoulder. There's a tide pool of my tears where the waves came crashing over and the shoreline disappears and then the chorus seemed to be talking about the immediacy of life and the preciousness of time. And it said, we hold it all for a little while don't we? Kiss the dice and taste the rain like little knives upon our tongue. He just looked at me like, wow. And I just thought, wow. Okay, good. You know, he's liking this one. He goes, no, you don't understand. This is your defining moment as a song. This is you, like, way on another level as a songwriter. Now, his favorite songwriter was Bob Dylan. And at this point, he just looked at me. He said, bob Dylan wishes he could write this. And I'm like, okay, honey, that's great. But then he started pestering me and he pestered me relentlessly about finishing this song for the foreseeable future. I'd be like, here's a new song, honey. And he'd be like, yeah, that's great. What's going on with that Bob Dylan song? What's happening with that? You know? But there was so much going on in our lives at that point. And the following spring, I started really having some real success. Success, in fact, enough success that my husband could quit his job and be a full time Mr. Mom. I was. I was putting a record out with Warner Brothers and going on tour, and Willie Nelson had just had a number one hit on a song that I wrote. And remember that song, Five Minutes? Well, that went to number one for somebody else. It was crazy. And the phone was ringing and it was like I'd wake up every morning and I just couldn't believe this was all happening. And right in the middle of that, out of nowhere, Ernest was diagnosed with a very rare form of lymphoma. Very advanced. And the doctor, he basically said, you have about six weeks and you need to just kind of go have some fun, you know? And I don't worry about this chemo stuff. Just go, enjoy the next six weeks, you know? And I just remember us driving home just bewildered, like. Like, this is definitely a bad dream. And driving home and thank goodness our son was at a friend's house. So we just climbed into bed and we took turns holding each other and sobbing for I don't know how many hours. And somewhere in the late afternoon, I bolted up, sat up in bed. And I realized that that evening, like an hour from then, I was to be singing at a huge black tie event for Warner Brothers Records. And to make it worse, I was to be singing a Song that I had written for my husband when we first met, the story of how we met. And it was. It was a song called All I have. And I just was like, ernest, I have to call and cancel. I can't. There's no way. I mean, look at me. I'm a mess, you know? And he was like, oh, no, you can't cancel. It's like, in an hour and a half. You can't cancel. And he said, listen, the only reason that you'd cancel now would be for something like, my husband has cancer, and we're not. I'm just not ready for us to make that call to tell the world that. Why don't we just get dressed and go? You know, we can just kind of switch gears. Let's get all dressed up, let's go. Let's walk into a world where I don't have cancer and hang out for a couple hours, and we'll come back here and we'll deal with all this later. And somehow he talked me into it. And I remembered this being in a sort of a surreal altered state. And it was an amazing evening. And I. I did pretty good, except, like, halfway through the song, I'm looking down, and he's beaming up at me in his beautiful tuxedo, and he looks so healthy. And all of a sudden, I'm like, whoa. And I realized what we were going through. I don't know what words came out of my mouth. There's a completely new second verse written in some language from another planet. And I just going. And then I kind of got back on board at the chorus, thank God. But it was good that we went, because, I mean, what else were we going to do? We were in shock. And the next morning, though, we were reading the newspaper and there was an article about the event, and it mentioned that there had been somebody in attendance who had left the event and suddenly died of a coronary. And that was incredibly impactful to Ernest. When he read that in the paper, he looked up at me and he said, wait a minute. He said, nobody can tell me when I'm going to die. I'm not going to do this with an expiration date on my. Stamped on me. You know, we're going to. We're going to do this, and we're going to do it right. And I'm going to stay here and fight to live and be in this world as long as I can, whatever it takes, and we're going to be positive about it. And that's what he did. And it was an incredible period of time. I mean, there were people and friends and love and support and terrible days of surgeries and chemo and all the best and all the worst, and an incredible, incredible constant of the present moment that we could appreciate on a level we would have never been able to. It was amazing and wondrous and. But mostly it sucked. And the day came when the outcome was obvious that we weren't going to be able to turn it around. And so Ernest went from using all of his energy to fight to live. And he shifted in the most beautiful, graceful way into shifting into, how do I learn to die? And he took all of his friends and loved ones with him on this journey. It was pretty amazing. And we came to the point where we were having those conversations, and he said, look, I want you to take my ashes to the Gulf of Mexico, which is where we used to fish on our honeymoon. And I want you to know that when you walk out to any body of water on Earth, you'll feel me there with you. So that's what we were planning to do. And he finished talking about some other practical stuff, and he said, now, there's just one more thing, and this is really important. And I'm like, what? You know, well, it's the matter of that Dylan song. What's going on with that song? Did you finish it? And I'm like. Like, are you kidding me? I can't believe you're asking me to do that. I kind of had a bit of a fit. And he said, you know, I don't have that much time. So, you know, you kind of. Maybe you want to work on it this afternoon. I mean, he was relentless about this song. I'm like, excuse me. My husband's dying. I'm a little busy right now. But, yeah, maybe I'll get around to it. He said, look. And I'm like. And I just said, no, no. And I got up, and I just stomped out of the room and started to head for the other end of the house. And he's calling down the hall, consider it my dying wish. And somehow, by some grace of God, I get to the. By the time I got to the other end of the hall, I was fuming. I started to form this idea in my mind of what it would be, and I just went, fine. I got it. I got it. I got it. And I started writing it down, and I'll tell. I'll show that guy, you know? And I walk back, and I stomp back in there, and I sit down on the edge of the bed. And I got really still, and he's like. And I said, so let him turn my soul Seven shades of blue and with the oceans roll Baby, I will wave to you and the birds will sing my laughter and the whales will steal my song But I'll be happy ever after and the world will get along and he had tears in his eyes, and he said, that's perfect. And I said, oh, thank God. He goes, except for one word. And I'm like, seriously, you're gonna critique my song now? You're gonna critique this? He said, not really. It's just this one word that's not quite accurate. See, I don't really know that I'm gonna be happy ever after, but I'm pretty sure I can promise you that I'll be okay. So let's say I'll be okay forever after and the world will get along how about that, honey? What do you think? And I'm like, fine. I was just glad to be done with it. So. The year following Ernest's death was a big blur. I was on automatic pilot. I was the happy, not crying, grieving Widder woman whose child was very much grieving and turning 13 and too much to do to possibly do anything about this giant boulder of grief that I was carting around with me like a ball and chain. So I would just be like, yeah, I'll get to that. But I'm fine. And people like, how are you doing? I'm fine. I definitely wasn't falling apart enough for them, but I just was putting one foot in front of the other. And I finished a lot of songs, and I was getting ready to go in the studio with Rodney Crowell, who's one of my heroes, a great songwriter, great artist, and a great producer and a great friend. He was a great friend of my husband as well. So I was in good hands. Go in the studio, day one, get it behind the microphone. Everything's great. Start singing the song. Which one? The Dylan song. That was the one. First one to get down. And by then it was called Seven Shades of Blue. And I started singing it, and I was fine. And then I got to the line, in the hollow of your shoulder There's a tide pool of my tears where the waves came crashing over and the shoreline disappears and I just sort of stopped. And all of a sudden, the tumblers fell into place. And I realized I wrote those lines two years ago, a year before he was diagnosed and the day he was diagnosed, I actually lived those lines. I mean, when we came home from the Doctor's office. And we held each other. I literally cried a tide pool of tears into the hollow of his shoulder, which I'd already written a year before. I mean, it just stunned me and it cracked me open in such a way. It was like a terrible feeling of sorrow and sadness that I was holding back and. And also this feeling of grace. Like, who does that? Who writes for themselves ahead of time? You know, how does that happen? So that told me something bigger than all this is looking after this. I don't have to worry about everything. And I just. Unfortunately, that made me start sobbing and I could not stop sobbing for the rest of the day with really expensive musicians, first class musicians, standing around going, yeah, well, when she gets this performance, we'll start playing along with it. Yeah. And the studio is like $2,000 a day. And I'm like, rob, we've got to just cancel. We gotta, we gotta cancel. And I'll come back in a week. And he goes, oh no. Oh no, no. We're gonna wait this out. I don't care how long it takes, take your time. I'm gonna be here and you're gonna be here when you perform that song. I'm gonna wait for the performance that's on the other side of that wall of tears. And that's the performance that's on the record today. And I can hear in my voice even now when I hear it, the sound of the calm after the storm. The sound of somebody who has been through the worst and finds themselves in a place where they can sing. I'll be okay Forever after and the world will get along. Thank you.