This may be a uniquely personal and sentimental story. A family trip to Nashville was planned for a few days, centered around seeing Wilson Fairchild perform at the Ryman Auditorium on a Thursday night. The author and his wife, Debbie, decided to join for the day, which his son “D” had secretly planned as a surprise. The day unfolded perfectly, holding more significance than ever expected.
The first stop was the Johnny Cash Museum. Stepping inside was like entering a dream filled with decades of memories. The sights and sounds brought back old friends and moments from the past, including John, June, Luther Perkins, Marshall Grant, Carl Perkins, and the Carter family—the people who shaped his life between 1964 and 1973. They didn’t just tour together; they lived, sang, and shared meals together, becoming a true family. In the museum, surrounded by photos and history, the weight of those years became clear. The author notes that if there had been no Johnny Cash, there would have been no Statlers. He left the museum with a heart full of gratitude.
Next, the family visited the Country Music Hall of Fame. The author had only been back once for business since the Statler Brothers’ induction on June 29, 2008. This visit was different. Standing before the Statler Brothers plaque with his entire family, especially his grandchildren, was an almost overwhelming emotional experience that felt deep and sacred.
That evening brought the main event: Wilson Fairchild at the Ryman Auditorium, the Mother Church of Country Music. His son Langdon and nephew Wil stood on the same historic stage where legends like Hank Williams, Roy Acuff, and the Statler Brothers themselves had once performed. Langdon and Wil lit up the crowd and connected with every person in the room. Sitting there, full of pride, the author recalled memories of the Grand Ole Opry and The Johnny Cash TV Show.
The moment that completely undid him came when his brother in song, Jimmy Fortune, joined Langdon and Wil on stage. Together, they performed the Statler Brothers song “Guilty,” written by Harold Reid and the author over thirty-five years ago.
As he stood to applaud, the author had a realization. In one glorious day, from the flood of Cash memories in the morning to seeing his children and grandchildren at the Hall of Fame, and then watching the next generation carry the music forward, his personal life and professional life came together. All of his cherished yesterdays and his beloved family were with him at once. In that single, sacred moment, he understood who he truly is. He felt so blessed by his life, love, and spirit that he was almost afraid to sleep that night, a happy, thankful, and fulfilled man.
