Grandpa Jack was only given one last Christmas with his family. He was diagnosed with cancer and wanted all of his family to be there. The year was 1982.

I am telling you this because that was the year I learned so much about family, love and responsibility. My name is Michael John Anderson, a famous ex-rock and roller.

The last few years I've been down on my luck. Bad tours, too much liquor, sex and not enough love.
At least there is one bright spot in my life. I married a girl named Mary Johnson. She was a runaway at the age of 16. Having no where to turn to, she found a job on the streets. I met here at one of her local joints and rescued her from the hell she was living in.

We've been together ever since. In a way, we were both dysfunctional kids who grew up in a "perfect" family. As for me, my life was in front of a TV camera. I was the grandson of one of Dallas' wealthiest preacher, the Rev. Jack Anderson.

A huge empire that stretched the globe through TV, radio and print. You think I would be happy, but I wasn't. I became a rock star, drinking and having wild parties with all the girls.

One day it all came to a bitter end. I wound up on the street looking for work when I found Jesus and Mary. Not the Virgin Mary, but my future wife.

For many years I avoided going home to my family. You could say I'm was selfish but I had other reasons. For one thing, I didn't want to admit that I was the losing end of a bad deal. The money was good, but I didn't do what I really wanted felt like. I was stripped of my freedom to sing my own songs, and was constantly followed by adoring fans who would anything for me, and I mean anything.

My grandfather was against the filth on the air and preached a message of hope and love. Two things I did not often get on the road.

The trip home was not going to be easy. A snowstorm had blanketed most of Canada and was moving south. Memphis was directly in her path. That meant that our trip had to be moved up a few days early. I decided to leave early Tuesday morning. The weather was clear and cold, but the skies were changing.

We needed to make several stops along the way. One for dinner, but there was one I had planned to make many years ago.
I went to see my friend John McGuire. John was my ex-manager, he managed the tours as well as all publicity and media concerns. I wanted to assure him that I would be coming back after the first of the year. Besides, I was looking for work, and had very little money to live on.

John lived on the north side of town. A big, spacious house with a fountain out front. A flower garden that was well kept in the spring. He could afford anything he wanted, and money was never an object.

"Howdy, stranger," John spoke opening the door for us. The house was all light up for the holidays. A fresh 10' pine tree stood in the corner, and its smell permeated the room.

"Very good." I said. "I would like to meet my wife, Mary."

"Very nice to meet you." His huge hand completely covered hers. "Why don't you just put your coats on the sofa, and sit down for a while." As John walked over to the bar, we sat down on his leather couch. The leather could still be smelled as if it was brand new.

"Well, what brings you to town?" He said. His bar was at least 6' tall and took up one wall. You could tell that this was where everybody hanged out at one of his parties.

"Would you like anything to drink? Scotch? Seven & Seven?"

"Thanks, but I came here to see if you needed my help. Let's say, after the 1st of the year?"

He slugged down vodka on ice. "I can't say. Many people are out of town, and with this snowstorm coming, it doesn't look to good for you."

His gold chains shined under the bright lights. He looked like Mr. T with all the rings on his fingers and chains on his neck.

"What are you saying?"

"All I'm saying Michael is that I can't tell?"

"Tell me what? That I'm all washed up." I was getting agitated by his remarks. It wasn't making the situation any better.

"You're getting all bothered over nothing." He came over and tucked at my shirt. His hands touching my face as the smell of his heavy cologne washed all over me.

"But don't see John. My reputation is at stake. I haven't cut a deal in a few years, and I'm dying to get one done now." I pleaded with him. He looked me in the eye and winked at me. It was his way of telling me to not worry.

"Michael, I love to use you, but it won't be 'til next year. By then, maybe…" He paused trying to find the right words to day "You'll find something. I promise you."

"Have I ever left you down?" His look of positive reinforcement was getting the best of me. Mary tugged at my arm.

"You know if Nashville or L.A. knew that MJA was in the studio, the phone would be ringing off the hook."

"He's right, honey. Let's wait and see what God gives us." Mary's face turned and looked at me. Her eyes all a glow like a Christmas ornament.

"See. There's nothing to worry about my man. Oh…while you're here." He dashed off down the hall. He returned a few seconds later with a gift in his hands.

"Open it up. I got it just for you." I ripped open the package and couldn't believe my eyes. It was a picture of me during the early '70s. My long hair blowing in the wind, and I'm wearing those God-awful bell-bottoms.

"You drove the chicks wild, man. I got this picture done by a friend who restored the picture, and made you larger than life."

"Thanks John." I felt a little sad seeing a part of me that was dead. "We've got to be going. I've got to get to Dallas by tomorrow."

"Well then, I guess you should be going. Don't want to keep you here when that snowstorm hits." We got up and put our coats back on.

"You call me when you hear anything?"

"Will do, man. Have I ever steered you wrong."

We opened the door and headed for the car. My thoughts turned to work and maybe I'll enjoy this holiday season after.

I drove all the way to the Oklahoma border. It was about 4:30, and both of us were hungry and tired. I saw a truck stop ahead and decided this look like a good place to eat.

Annie's Dinner the sign said. The place was filled with loud music playing through the speaker. The waitresses were filling orders, while truckers sat at one of the diner drinking beer and eating. Food filled the air like the kind that Grandma Joann used to bake. Apple pies and delicious foods that were too good to pass up.

We sat down at a window seat and waited for the waitress. The place was sure full, and as the sun set in the west over the highway, all I wanted to be was home.