Pushkin

In Nashville, Tennessee, there's a songwriter named Bobby Brattick.

He's in his 70s.

Maybe 5'7", bald head, scruffy beard.

Worry, like if you messed with him in a bar, he'd probably lose.

The most striking thing about him is his eyes,

which are the palest and most intense shade of blue.

He wears sunglasses a lot, and it's almost as if he needs to protect the world from that look.

I met him on music row in Nashville.

We had lunch, and then we sat in one of the writer's rooms in the Sony building,

Piano in the corner,

couches to one side,

and he talked about his education in the music business.

I think I always had the reputation as me in kind of a quirky writer,

maybe a little left feel.

The turning point in Brattick's career was a song you've probably heard of.

It was performed by Tammy Waenat back when she was the reigning queen of country music,

1968.

About a mom who had to spell out the word DIVORCE,

so her kids wouldn't know their parents were splitting up.

So DIVORCE,

yeah,

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