Willie Nelson's Letters to America

by Willie Nelson

  We’ve come a long ways together. Career-wise, it’d be foolish for any musician to release two hundred albums. You and I both knew that, but I wanted to make as much music as possible, with lots of musicians I love, and you found a way to make it work. Two hundred albums later, we both look pretty smart.

  We’ve had a hell of a run—music, movies, and much more. Thank you for helping make Farm Aid possible. And for making it possible for me to sing to our nation when we were all hurting. Thanks for the world’s biggest sixtieth birthday party, then again for my seventieth and my eightieth. It was great to hang out and sing at those shows with Ray Charles, Bob Dylan, Paul Simon, Bonnie Raitt, Leon Russell, Eric Clapton, and lots more talented pals, so I hope you’ve got something good planned for my ninetieth. And I recommend you start working soon on my hundredth.

  Sometimes I think about you, and I just start to laugh. Remember that time in Baton Rouge when we decided to run to the arena for the show? We ran ten miles in circles till I finally said I was gonna knock on someone’s door and ask for help. You said I couldn’t knock on a stranger’s door. And I said, “I’m no stranger. I’m Willie Nelson.”

  That homeowner gave us a ride to the gig. That was a great ride, and the truth is, it’s all been one hell of a great ride. I’d just like to remind you that the ride ain’t over yet.

  Back to work!

  Willie

  WE DON’T RUN

  by Willie Nelson

  We don’t run, we don’t compromise

  We don’t quit, we never do

  We look for love, we find it in the eyes

  The eyes of me and the eyes of you

  You are the road, you are the only way

  I’ll follow you forever more

  We’ll look for love, we’ll find it in the eyes

  The eyes that see through all the doors

  There is a train that races through the night

  On rails of steel that reach the soul

  Fueled by fire as soft as candlelight

  But it warms the heart of a love grown cold

  And we don’t run and we don’t compromise

  We don’t quit, we never do

  We look for love, we find it in the eyes

  The eyes of me and the eyes of you

  Words that feel, words that sympathize

  Words that heal and understand

  Say them now, let them materialize

  Say the words throughout the land

  We don’t run, we don’t compromise

  We don’t quit, we never do

  We look for love, find it in the eyes

  The eyes of me and the eyes of you

  And we don’t run and we don’t compromise

  We don’t quit, we never do

  We look for love, we find it in the eyes

  The eyes of me and the eyes of you

  AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL

  I want to take a few moments to highlight some of the things that I love about America. Any list like that would be long indeed, but near the top is the right to speak up and try to make our great democracy even better.

  We haven’t been perfect, but I do believe we’ve been the best, and that rather than hiding our flaws, it’s best to use our right of free speech and discuss them in the open. When our nation was founded, the great majority of Americans weren’t allowed to vote or own property. We had wise founding fathers, but I can’t help but think the insights of a few wise founding mothers might have been a good addition.

  It took us almost a hundred years to end slavery, and another hundred and fifty years later, we are still struggling with true equality for all. I believe Black Lives Matter. And I believe that Native American Lives Matter. That shouldn’t be hard for Americans to understand. Everyone has equal rights. They are inalienable, and no one should be persecuted because of the tone of their skin.

  There’s a great gospel song with the line “None of us are free if one of us is chained.” Every one of us will be stronger when there truly is equal justice and opportunity across our land. That’s when every American will know that all lives matter.

  I’ve been asked if I believe people should be allowed to kneel during the national anthem. Regarding peaceful protests and just about anything else, I believe everyone should do whatever the fuck they want to do. You don’t have to watch sports if you don’t like the players’ personal beliefs. You don’t have to attend a gay wedding if you don’t want to. You don’t have to buy my music, and I ain’t gonna change the way I think so you will. We all make our own decisions. I’m trying to make mine with love.

  I love this great nation, imperfections and all. I truly hope we can find a way to all come together to talk about our differences and find the right paths to maintain and improve its greatness for generations to come.

  DEAR FOUNDING FATHERS,

  I hardly know where to begin. You united thirteen colonies, brought us through a trying War of Independence, and shaped our nation through a Constitution that has guided us to this day.

  Knowing you couldn’t foresee future conditions, the Constitution included a provision that allows it to be amended, but only with great consideration and a nearly unified view of the issue at hand. I’ve learned over the years from my friends in the White House and the Senate that twenty-six of twenty-seven amendments to the US Constitution have been approved by your lead amendment model, a two-thirds vote by both the House and the Senate, and ratification by three-fourths of the states.

  Without our amendments, we wouldn’t have the Bill of Rights and would still have slavery. Without our amendments, minorities and women wouldn’t be allowed to vote, and neither would eighteen-to twenty-year-olds, young people who were once expected to go to war but denied the right to vote their own conscience.

  We’ve come a long way, but I believe we can do better, especially if we have more women’s voices and women in elected office. If there’d been some smart women in the room in 1776, one of them might have pointed out that our nation would never reach its full potential until it considers every person an equal. We’re making progress, but we’re not there yet.

  The Equal Rights Amendment, guaranteeing equal rights to all regardless of sex, was ratified by two-thirds of the House and Senate, fifty years ago. Thirty-seven states—almost two-thirds—have voted to adopt the ERA. There are arguments on whether all those state votes are still valid, but the way I see it, if you’re opposed to women having equal rights, then you’re clearly afraid of the competition.

  So come on, America! Let’s embrace what we know is right—equal rights for all. That includes women. That includes people who fall into many other categories like L, G, B, T, Q, and X. If more letters are needed, they should be included too. Equal rights for all. Full stop. Period. Someday, future Americans will look back at how long this took us and wonder, What the hell were they thinking?

  And while we’re at it, it’s time to take a serious look at whether the Electoral College is still serving the greater interests of America. I grew up in Texas believing that our democracy is best represented as one person equals one vote. An amendment to eliminate the Electoral College and elect our president by popular vote would solidify that idea forever.

  So, Founding Fathers, you aren’t here to help us debate and decide this issue, but you did put these matters in our hands. Let’s see if Americans can set politics aside for once and vote for what they know is right.

  In the meantime, we are sending love from the twenty-first century. What a long, strange, and fantastic trip it’s been.

  A proud American,

  Willie Nelson

  AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL

  by Katharine Lee Bates

  Oh, beautiful for spacious skies,

  For amber waves of grain,

  For purple mountain majesties

  Above the fruited plain!

  America! America!

  God shed his grace on thee,

  And crown thy good with brotherhood

  Fro
m sea to shining sea.

  Oh, beautiful for pilgrim feet,

  Whose stern, impassioned stress

  A thoroughfare for freedom beat

  Across the wilderness!

  America! America!

  God mend thine ev’ry flaw,

  Confirm thy soul in self-control,

  Thy liberty in law.

  Oh, beautiful for heroes proved

  In liberating strife,

  Who more than self their country loved,

  And mercy more than life!

  America! America!

  May God thy gold refine,

  Till all success be nobleness,

  And ev’ry gain divine.

  Oh, beautiful for patriot dream

  That sees beyond the years

  Thine alabaster cities gleam,

  Undimmed by human tears!

  America! America!

  God shed his grace on thee,

  And crown thy good with brotherhood

  From sea to shining sea.

  DEAR FOURTH OF JULY,

  You and me, we’ve had some fun together at my little birthday party for America. That term “little” is relative—we had fifty thousand people for the first picnic in 1973, with Waylon, Kris, Leon, John Prine, and Doug Sahm performing in the hot Texas sun. Over the years, we’ve had a million Americans celebrating your big day.

  There are other holidays when the Texas weather is not so hot. Throwing a party for tens of thousands of Texans in some open field can’t be found anywhere in a course called Music Business 101. And we rarely make any money. But we all know that our nation’s birthday isn’t about lining pockets.

  Around March, I get cold feet about our hot concert. But when the Fourth rolls around, the buses are lined up backstage as the crowd comes in. It’s generally a big bill—sometimes I don’t get onstage with the Family Band till early in the morning on July 5.

  No matter who the acts are, you’re the big draw. The crowd comes for your party, and they often stand in the sun, maybe with a cold beer or mellowed by pot, and soak in the music—a giant melting of American greatness.

  Gathering under a sea of red, white, and blue, we remember that we are the same—Americans, not so different from each other or any other people in the world. We laugh, we cry, we like a good joke. We all want freedom, opportunity, and justice for our families, our friends, and our communities. Those are year-round truths, but once a year we have the opportunity to be reminded of them.

  That’s the heart of your birthday celebration. Our virtual picnic this year was a great party of its own. I got to do a great set with Lukas and Micah, and we raised funds for some important community work. But I did miss my old friends and their visits on my bus. I missed the crowds, the sunburns, the old folks, the babies, and more.

  In 2021, you’ll be 245 years old. That’s respectable. And I hope we can throw you the party you deserve.

  Willie

  UNCLOUDY DAY

  by Willie Nelson

  Oh, they tell me of a home far beyond the skies

  Oh, they tell me of a home far away

  Oh, they tell me of a home where no storm clouds rise

  Oh, they tell me of an unclouded day

  Oh, the land of cloudless day

  Oh, the land of an unclouded sky

  Oh, they tell me of a home where no storm clouds rise

  Oh, they tell me of an unclouded day

  Oh, they tell me of a home where my friends have gone

  Oh, they tell me of that land far away

  Where the tree of life in eternal bloom

  Sheds its fragrance through the unclouded day

  Oh, the land of cloudless day

  Oh, the land of an unclouded sky

  Oh, they tell me of a home where no storm clouds rise

  Oh, they tell me of an unclouded day

  Oh, they tell me of a King in His beauty there

  And they tell me that mine eyes shall behold

  Where He sits on the throne that is whiter than snow

  In the city that is made of gold

  Oh, the land of cloudless day

  Oh, the land of an unclouded sky

  Oh, they tell me of a home where no storm clouds rise

  Oh, they tell me of an unclouded day

  Oh, they tell me that He smiles on His children there

  And His smile drives their sorrows all away

  And they tell me that no tears ever come again

  In that lovely land of unclouded day

  Oh, the land of cloudless day

  Oh, the land of an unclouded sky

  Oh, they tell me of a home where no storm clouds rise

  Oh, they tell me of an unclouded day

  TO MY FELLOW NATIVE AMERICANS,

  Dohitsu. That’s Cherokee or Tsalagi for “How are you?”

  To answer my own question, “Dohi quu.” I am fine.

  My mother, Myrle, gave me my Cherokee blood, and it seems like she and I were both born to wander the hills and plains, as our ancestors had once done. No one taught me those Cherokee words when I was young. I had to look them up. So before my vocabulary runs out, I should explain that, when I was just a crackerjacks kid from small-town Texas, most people wouldn’t have pegged me as a future Outstanding Indian of the Year. On the other hand, I did have a good start.

  Myrle didn’t talk much about her family background when I was little, but even when I was watching my heroes Roy Rogers and Gene Autry at the movies, I had no doubt that the Indians were my heroes too. With few exceptions, those movies didn’t do well by America’s Indians.

  Decades later, we have a better understanding of the injustice done to the indigenous people of our nation, tens of millions of whom once occupied every corner of this great land. In the centuries since the arrival of Christopher Columbus, the lands you lived on, your culture, your language, and your lives were taken in the name of American expansion. You fought heroically, but it’s difficult to defeat smallpox and typhus, or overcome modern weaponry and greed.

  But here we are, descendants of ancient traditions and adapters of new ones. Together, we are still fighting for justice for every surviving American tribe. I’m just one man, but I’ve tried to help alleviate some of those injustices. I was deeply touched when, at the 1987 American Indian Exposition in Oklahoma, you named me Outstanding Indian of the Year. I was thrilled when you put that long, feathered headdress on me, and maybe a little less thrilled when you announced that I was going to lead fifteen thousand Native Americans in dance. That is some pressure.

  I’ve been blessed by the opportunity to appear at many other Native American events over the decades, and those experiences have drawn me closer to my Indian heritage. They’ve helped me understand more about who I am and why I think the way I do.

  There’s a Navajo proverb that says, “You can’t wake a person who is pretending to be asleep.” I think we could expand that by saying you also can’t wake a person who is pretending to be awake.

  For too long, America has pretended not to see a legacy of great injustice. Whether we’re aware of our choices or not, we walk through the lives we choose. And the great tragedy of every tribe in America is that the choices were made not by them, but by others who couldn’t see the beauty of the people’s souls or the debt owed to the caretakers of this land.

  Progress for that justice is slow, but I do believe that more and more Americans are waking to past failures. The day is coming when the weight of injustice will be recognized and start to lift, leading us to a time when every Native American can enjoy the fruits of our ancient land and of the full rights and opportunities due to each of us.

  There is no word for “goodbye” in Cherokee. Instead, I say, “Donadagohvi”—“ ’Til we meet again.”

  Willie

  A HORSE CALLED MUSIC

  by Wayne Carson

  High on a mountain in western Montana

  A silhouette moves ’cross a cinnamon sky

  Ridin’ along
on a horse he called Music

  With a song on his lips and a tear in his eye

  He dreams of a time and a lady that loved him

  And how he would sing her sweet lullaby

  But we don’t ever ask him, and he never talks about her

  I guess it’s better to just let it slide

  And he sings, “ooh” to the ladies

  And ooh he makes ‘em sigh

  Now he rides away on a horse he called Music

  With a pain in his heart and a tear in his eye

  Now he rode the Music from Boston to Bozeman

  For not too much money, and way too much ride

  And those were the days when a horse he called Music

  Could jump through the moon and sail across the sky

  Now all that’s left is an old time-worn cowboy

  With nothing more than the sweet by-and-by

  Trailin’ behind is a horse with no rider

  A horse he calls Memories that she used to ride

  But he sang, “ooh” to the ladies

  And ooh he damn near laid down and died

  Now he rides away on a horse he called Music

  With a pain in his heart and a tear in his eye

  High on a mountain in western Montana

  Two crosses cut through a cinnamon sky

  Markin’ a place where a horse he called Music

  Lays with a cowboy in the sweet by-and-by

  MAMA, DON’T LET THEM BABIES GROW UP TO BE PRESIDENTS

  I’ll admit, it can be fun to look out at my audience and see someone wearing a “Willie for President” T-shirt. Maybe they think I can unite the nation, the way I helped bring the hippies and the rednecks together in the ’70s. But there’s a huge difference between smoking a joint on the roof of the White House without a care in the world and actually being the occupant of the White House, with the weight of the whole world on your shoulders.