My walk had purpose, my steps were quick and light, and I held firmly to what I felt was right.

I was a runner, a failed quarterback, third-string quarterback, but in track I was a 2-miler.

I'm not a number. Dammit, I'm a man.

One victim lives in tragedy, another victim stops to stare, and still another walks on by pretending not to see

I write probably 80 percent of my stuff over the winter.

I really like the thing I did with Martina McBride. I had that song sitting around for a long time.

Most of the time, I'm here in Michigan and I'm taking out the garbage every Monday.