How Nashville connected me to Loretta Lynn

Yes, both Loretta Lynn and I are from Kentucky, but this goes deeper. The year was 2008 and I was headed to Nashville for corporate training. I had convinced my employer to let me fly in early so I could enjoy Nashville for the weekend first.

I wanted to spend some time with my guitar in singer-songwriter-ville. I had already decided to head to the Bluebird Cafe on Monday for their iconic open mic night. I wrote about that in a previous column. But before that, on Saturday night, when most places were reserved for large crowds and well-known bands, I sought an open mic opportunity.

I sat at the airport and searched online while waiting to board. I found a link that took me to The Hall of Fame Lounge. Could that be right? Yes. It was in fact open mic night in the Best Western hotel lounge. I called. The first person gave me the number for a second person who told me, "I'm going to the Jackson Browne concert tonight. It's not my night to organize the lineup. You need to call Steve."

I called Steve.

"Yep, looks like I have some room," he told me when I asked if I could play.

When I walked in, there was only one other woman in the whole place. The musicians on stage were incredible. Imposter syndrome quickly set in. I am not an accomplished guitar player or songwriter. I block chords while I sing. I was used to gigs where I played the hit songs people wanted to hear. Songs they knew, not my original folk songs. But at open mic night, originals were expected.

Three artists sat onstage together. At first, I thought I was watching a trio, but no. Everyone played three songs, taking turns to mix it up.

I introduced myself to Steve and took my guitar to a two-top table to settle in and listen.

Then Frank Knapp walked in. His unpretentious swagger and broken-in boots said he didn't need to prove anything to anybody. The guitar he carried was worn, the finish strummed clean off in spots near the pick guard. Without hearing a note, I had no doubt that he could make it sing.

Knapp had written songs in the 1970s and '80s for Carol Channing, Carol Chase and Loretta Lynn. Was he past his prime? Maybe. He didn't have any hits from any recent decades, but his dues were paid.

Frank came over and shook my hand and said, "I hear we're going to be onstage together."

I looked at Steve who explained, "I thought you guys would be good to pair up. I told Frank this was your first time, and he's a good guy."

On stage Frank pulled the lollipop from his mouth and stuck it under the strings of his guitar next to the nut. Rockers use that spot for a spare cigarette. But not this cool cat; a Tootsie Pop would get him through.

Frank introduced the two of us to the audience and declared, "Ladies first."

I sang "Being With You," a song I wrote when I was dating my then-boyfriend (now husband) Felipe. Then, Frank followed me with, "A little song that Loretta Lynn recorded for me." It's called "You're Gonna Catch Heaven When I Get You Home."

How the heck could I follow that? Especially when the only thing I had left to play is my jealousy tune (best heard after a bottle of wine) called "Crazy Lady."

A man in the audience snapped a picture while I sang. I wish I had that photo now. Frank was gracious. When it was over, he told me, "Good song."

Once we were off the stage, Steve invited me to his studio the next day to lay down my tracks on a rough CD and, "preserve the tunes in a snapshot of what they are today." That sounded great to me. Those recordings are on my YouTube channel and I'm so grateful now for the memories.

The piece of Nashville I found at the hotel lounge was not clouded with ego. I'm sure places exist in singer-songwriter-ville where egos go toe-to-toe, but that's not the Nashville I experienced.

Rest well, Loretta Lynn. This Kentucky girl is grateful Frank Knapp connected me to you in some small way.