Category: Memoir

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The Day I Found a Table Full of Money

If you had an unlimited budget for 24 hours, what would you do?

This prompt reminded me of a story that happened to me years ago…

I was probably 19 or 20 years old. Early ’90s.

My uncle owned a tree cutting and removal company, and every now and then he’d call me if he needed an extra hand. One spring, Atlanta got hit with some nasty weather. High winds came through and left trees down all over the place.

We spent the day working in some of the high-end neighborhoods around Buckhead. On one particular street, there were trees down everywhere. My uncle and I split up and started knocking on doors to see if anyone needed our services.

One property caught my attention.

A massive oak tree had fallen across the front yard. The place was beautiful. A long winding driveway climbed a hill to a huge old house that looked like something out of a movie.

So I made the walk up.

It seemed to take forever.

When I finally got to the front door, I noticed it was open. I stopped for a second and called out.

“Hello? Anybody home?”

Nothing.

I knocked a few times.

Still nothing.

I called out again.

Nothing.

So I leaned my head just inside the doorway.

All the lights were on.

And sitting in the middle of the room was a large table.

Now that was strange enough.

But what was on the table was stranger.

The entire thing was covered in stacks of cash.

Not a few piles.

Stacks and stacks of money.

The table was loaded with it.

To this day I have no idea how much was sitting there, but it was more money than I’d ever seen in one place in my life.

Naturally, all kinds of thoughts started running through my head.

This just isn’t a situation a person finds themselves in very often.

But along with the surprise came a strange feeling that I shouldn’t be there.

Something told me it was time to leave.

So I left.

End of story.

…

As for the prompt itself…

I’d use it to help people who actually need it.

The funny thing is, I can still do this without an unlimited budget.

Every little bit helps.

Every little bit counts.

…

…

…

…

© 2026 Bryan Loia Hudson. All Rights Reserved.

`’.,°~

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Back When Music Felt Dangerous ᵉᵈｉᵗｅᵈ

What is the best concert you have been to?

Over the past 40 years ¡ have been to many concerts and music festivals… both Christian and secular… also ¡’ve performed in some… but two really stick out…

The first was Lollapalooza 1993 Atlanta…

Alice in Chains… Tool… Primus… Rage Against the Machine… and others…

It was insane…

An outdoor concert… bottles and other debris flying through the air constantly… the air was thick with it… and you were always gettin hit with somethin…

People were getting launched into the air on tarps… like some kind of human slingshot trampoline deal… mosh pits everywhere… honestly… it was probably the most dangerous listening experience of my life…

But man… ¡ got to see Layne Staley… and ¡’ll never forget that… RIP my brother…

And here’s the funny part…

¡ didn’t normally smoke weed back then… because honestly… ¡ just can’t handle it…

But that day… my friends talked me into it…

By the time we got to the concert… ¡ was so unbelievably stoned… ¡ couldn’t even move…

So my friends left me in the car… pinned my ticket to my shirt… and went on without me…

About 30 minutes later… ¡ started sobering up a little… ¡ could hear music thunderin in the distance… so ¡ just followed the sound down the street to the outside venue…

Eventually ¡ found the gates… then somehow found my friends… and from there… it was pure chaos and adrenaline the rest of the day…

At one point ¡ remember thinkin…

¡ survived the parking lot… now ¡ have to try and not die during the concert.

…

…

So the second was a really cool thing for me…

Back around 94 or 95… ¡ had a special invite to a private bass clinic put on by Victor Wooten and Steve Bailey…

There were only maybe 25 or 30 of us there… all musicians…

¡ was given two tickets… and you couldn’t buy these things… you had to know somebody…

It was at a secret location… ¡ could tell you… but then ¡’d have to kill you…

But seriously… it was super intimate and awesome… everybody hanging out… talking… asking questions… real relaxed atmosphere… almost like a classroom setting…

And if you’re unfamiliar with Victor and Steve… they are considered among the best bass players in the world… Victor is thought by many to be the very best… Número Uno.

Victor has played with Dave Matthews… Béla Fleck… Stanley Clarke… Chick Corea… Bootsy Collins… Prince… Gov’t Mule… and many more…

Steve was famous for his 6-string fretless bass… and he held a chair at Berklee College of Music⁠… not sure if he still does…

But he also toured and played with… Dizzy Gillespie… Willie Nelson… Jethro Tull… just to name a few…

It was a super badass evening…

They both taught… spoke… answered questions… and played…

My friend Ray Cicola invited me… he’s a phenomenal guitarist and teacher… and his band played a few songs in between everything…

One of em was a really rocked out version of… The Devil Went Down to Georgia by The Charlie Daniels Band…

After it was all over… everybody just stood around hanging out and talking…

¡ remember standing there face to face with both Victor and Steve… just talking music…

Victor had a VHS instructional tape with him… and he gave it to me…

Then he stopped… asked for it back… grabbed a Sharpie… and both he and Steve signed it… then handed it back to me…

Years later… ¡ gifted it to a friend who was a huge Victor fan…

But man… what a night…

It’s the only music clinic like that ¡’ve ever been to.

…

…

👇 Victor’s solo starts around 6:40 mark

Amazing Grace 👇 💯

…

…

…

…

© 2026 Bryan Loia Hudson. All Rights Reserved.

`’.,°~

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We Don’t Call It Camping… Where I’m From

Have you ever been camping?

Are you kidding me…

I’m a Gen X kid.

We didn’t call it camping…
that’s what city folks say…
when they do it once in a while.

We called it…

the weekend.

…and sometimes in the summer—
it was just life.

…

Growing up in Georgia…

I didn’t have to go anywhere—

to find it.

I lived on the edge of thick… deep woods…
the kind full of things
that could hurt you.

We weren’t scared…

didn’t matter—

we were in there anyway.

Kids… by ourselves…
no parents…
just dirt… trees… and whatever moved in the shadows.

…

Then there were the weekends…

My friend Chris—
his folks had land on Lake Oconee.

Man… we lived out there.

Tents…
or just sleeping by the fire…

Fishing… boating… skiing… swimming…

Great times.

…

And when I wasn’t there…

I was with my dad… and my uncle…
heading up into the north Georgia mountains…
along the Tallulah River.

We’d drive about 15 miles down a narrow gravel road…
till we hit the river crossing.

Then we’d drive straight through it.

Clear water…
ice cold… even in summer…

on the other side—
was nothing.

No people.

Just us…
and whatever else was out there.

Bears…
Bigfoots…
timber rattlesnakes…

just the locals.

…

We’d set camp right on the water…

Fish all day.

Rainbow… brown…
beautiful native brook trout…

Trout for breakfast—
fish… grits… eggs…

Lunch—
fish sandwich… chips…

Supper—
we went all out…

Grilled or fried fish…
vegetable kabobs…
baked potatoes in the fire…
salad…

We ate like kings out there.

…

I’ve caught so many fish in that river…
I couldn’t even guess the number.

Been going since I was about 7…

I’m 52 now.

Haven’t been in a few years…

Life gets busy…

…but that place is down in me.

…

Some summers…

the riverbanks would glow red—

tiny garnets everywhere.

We’d sift through them…
looking for the bigger ones…

We’d also look for gold…
found some too.

I remember once…
I had a handful of decent-size wild garnets and gold… glistening in my palm

but that place for me—
is more valuable than anything I can hold.

…

Then came Florida…

Lived there for 12 years.

Different world—
same soul.

Many freshwater fishing trips inland…
spent much time at many of the different springs…

…but also the coast…

I lived on Anna Maria Island…

Had a sea kayak.

Weekends…
I’d load up my truck…
drive to Bishop Harbor…

Drop in…

Paddle 45 minutes out
to these tiny… remote islands.

Set up camp.

…

Mornings—
I’d paddle and fish…

Afternoons—
back to camp…
eat… rest… chillax…

Evenings—
back out till dark…

Then nights…

just me…

the fire…
the water…
the sounds…
the wildlife…

Alone…

but not really.

…

Down there…

we call it…

Salt Life.

Had the sticker on my truck and everything.

…

So yeah man…

I’ve been what yall call camping
a few times 😁

…

All jokes aside…

I’m about that life.

It’s in me…

just like music.

…

…

been singing this in my head and on guitar all day…

Me and my buddy Jonathan… fishing in Florida

Jon and I were fishing when 3 huge wild boars walked behind us

My friend Jimmy holdin’ my fish… this is my pb 9.3 lbs… caught at Lake Istokpoga FL… Feb 2o14
Supper one evening on the remote island

…

Romans 1:20

“For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.

© 2026 bryanforchrist. All rights reserved.

`’.,°~

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Too Aware to Play Along

Describe something you learned in high school.

There are a lot of people I know
who say high school was a waste of time…

—and I get it.

For some…
especially artists and musicians…
it never felt like a place
that knew what to do
with a fire inside—

more about obedience…
than imagination…

But for me—
it was different.

Those four years gave me something real…

I had free chorus… music classes…
adding even more
to the years I already lived in—

that’s where it happened—
I discovered my love
for writing…
for literature.

English—
that was probably my favorite…

History came close—
science right behind it…

Math…?

I could do it… sure—
but I never felt it.

I understood it—
just never connected to it.

Sports gave me another kind of education—
one built on sweat…
pressure…
timing…
and skill you had to prove…

The social side though…
I could’ve done without that.

It was the usual divide…
the cool kids…
then everyone else…

—and me…

somewhere in between…
too aware to play along—

But the teachers—
they mattered.

I had real connections there…

My building construction teacher…
he was one of the guys…

Sometimes we’d sneak behind the shed—
smoke a cigarette…
talk about life…

Other days—
we’d all jump him…
wrestle him to the ground…
leave him covered in dirt…
shirt torn up…

He’d walk into the teacher’s lounge
looking like he survived a tornado…

trying to explain what happened…

Man… we loved that guy.

But my English teacher—

she changed everything.

She introduced me to Julius Caesar…
my first taste of Shakespeare…

Lighting a path to more great literature…

And then there was music class—

where I learned something
I still tote today…

The power… of the rest.

Silence—

In music…
what isn’t played…
can speak louder
than what is.

Same with writing… 😎

So yeah…

I gained a lot from that place.

Funny thing—

earlier today…
before I even saw this prompt…

I was listening to the John Mayer Trio…
reading interviews with John…

—and in one of them he said…

“I knew school never did anything for me…
it never made sense…
I knew at 13 what I wanted—
to be a musician.”

And yeah…
I get that too.

But thinking about it…

…

school did do something for him.

…

it showed him
what he refused to let go of.

…

…

And that’s the lesson— 😎

…

…

They love to tell you
Stay inside the lines.

But something’s better
On the other side.

© 2026 Bryan Loia Hudson. All rights reserved.

`’.,°~

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OutKasted — Then Gone With The Wind — Atlanta Nights

There was a bar on the Southside of Atlanta—
named after Scarlett O’Hara.

A name that still means something—here.

The owner was a big fan of the movie—
you could feel it in the name… the vibe… the whole place.

A fiery, drunken piece of history.

Like it had been there longer than it hadn’t.

Margaret Mitchell still lived in the bones of that place.
Her city.
Her story.
Her shadow.

And in the mid 90’s.

O’Hara’s was the spot.

Packed most nights—
the kind of place that had its own pull.

Lights low
Laughs loud
Song and dance soaked in whiskey—
beer… and sweet drinks of every color.

A place where stories were made—
not told.
This one included.

Me and two of my good buddies—
grew up together…
went to school together—
now doing grown man stuff together.

We spent most weekends here.

But there was this guy…
his mind was set—
he wanted trouble with my boy…
and he just wasn’t gonna quit.

All night—
on us…
pressing…
running his mouth.

Alright though…
was just words.

We left it alone…
stayed cool…
tried to anyway.

I even tried to squash it—
real calm… real respectful.

To him… that was weak.

And some… they read silence wrong.

On our way to the car…
it wasn’t looking good…

dude right behind us.

Words turned into steps—
steps about to turn to hands.

I knew what was coming…

and yep… he did it—
put his hands on my friend.

I was hoping—for him—he’d choose bigger.

That was all I needed.

I locked on him—

threw him over the hood—

let my hands go.

Fast.
Clean.
Final.

And just like that—
it was done.

He slid off the hood…
out cold.

I didn’t leave him—
I don’t roll like that.

We picked him up—
got him off the pavement…
laid him in the grass—
made sure he was alright.

Checked his breathing…
made sure he was with us.

Then we went back in—
let the people working there know what happened.

Stayed put till he came to.

…

But just between you and me…

…

frankly…

back then…

…

I just didn’t give a damn.

…

Then…
we were gone—

…

with the wind.

…

The Original Eminem… Atlantas Own… Margaret Mitchell
Rear view of the MM house from Crescent Avenue

You can plan a pretty picnic…

but you can’t predict the weather.

© 2026 Bryan Loia Hudson. All rights reserved.

`’.,°~

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One Pull Away…

*** DO NOT TRY THIS YOURSELF ***

The 90’s for me…
were just… were just… hmm…
still lookin’ for the word(s)…

For now…
fire and ice.

The middle of the decade—
Burned hottest…
Froze bone…

I was dealin’ with heartbreak…
tryin’ to fix it with drugs… alcohol…
music.

I was strugglin’

So this memory came back to me today…
I just sat there like—
geeees man… what was I thinkin’?

Apparently… I wasn’t.

Back then… I had a few handguns…
used to go to the firin’ range pretty often…
had a couple of 9mm’s…

and this one…

a small .22 revolver—
pearl handle…
looked almost harmless in the hand.

But I noticed somethin’ about it…

You could load just one round…
and if you looked closely—
you could barely see it sittin’ there in the chamber.

So… as you pulled the trigger…
if you paid attention…
you could track it… tell when it was one pull away.

And yeah…

I’d mess with my buddies sometimes…

I would play Russian Roulette with it.

Even though I knew I was “safe”…
keepin’ an eye on the bullet…

it was still—
an unreal feelin’.

hard to explain it.

I never let anyone else handle the gun loaded…
and I absolutely would not let anyone else participate…
and I never shared my secret.

I can’t believe I did it.

My friends thought I was somethin’ else…
and yeah…
I built quite a reputation off that.

But lookin’ back now…

ugg…

what a thing to do.

…

So grateful God never let go…

…

*** DO NOT TRY THIS YOURSELF ***

Job 33:18
“He keeps them from the pit, their lives from perishing by the sword.”

© 2026 Bryan Loia Hudson. All rights reserved.

`’.,°~

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My Parents… The Strangest Love I’ve Ever Seen

I’ve been texting with a friend all day…
in between living life…

We got on the topic of this life of mine…
and somehow… my parents came up.

After telling him some things…
I started thinking…

Man… my mom and dad are strange.
Not them as people…
their relationship.

It’s just… different.

They’ve known each other forever… all their lives…

I mean since they were little bitty kids.
I believe… since babies.

They lived next door to each other.
Their families were close.
Friends… neighbors…

They grew up side by side.

Playmates…
then boyfriend and girlfriend as kids…
carried it through elementary school…
into high school…

They were in love.

They got married.
Planned to have me…

Succeeded 😎

I was born… started spinning around this earth… like everyone else.

…

Then when I was 5…
they got divorced.

Just like that.

It wasn’t some huge dramatic thing either…

they were just bored.

Like they realized
they were all each other had ever known…
thought they were missing something out there.

So they walked away.

…

Not long after…

they both met other people.
Quick.

Got married again.
Both of them.

Both of those marriages…
were disasters.

Five… six years later…
both divorced again.

…

But here’s the part that always got me…

through all of it…

they stayed close.

I mean really close.

Always together.

They’d hang out…
go to movies…
go shopping…
even take trips together.

Like… what?

It was like they were married…
but weren’t.

They got along better than most married couples I’ve ever seen.

…

Then one day… when I was 24…

they told me they needed to talk.

Both of them.

Sat me down in the living room…

real serious.

And I’m thinking…

Alright… what is this?
Who’s sick?
Is it cancer?
Who died?
What’s going on?

They’ve never done this like this before.

…

So they ask me…

“How would you feel…
if we got married again?”

…

“Sure! I’m all for it!
I want yall happy!”

“So who’s the lucky man and woman?
Double wedding or something?”

…

Nah…
Not even close.
Bruh…
They meant each other.
Again.

…

Now you’d think I’d be happy, right?

That’s my mom and dad.

But honestly?

It was weird.

Most of my life…
they were just friends.

They had been married to other people…
dated other people…

but somehow always stayed close.

…

So I gave them my blessing.

Even though it felt strange.

…

First time I saw them kiss…
it creeped me out… 😁

…

So they got married.

Bought a big house.

…

Within about six months…

everything started falling apart.

Arguing all the time.
Couldn’t get along.

I remember thinking—

What happened?

Where did that friendship go…
the one I watched my whole life?

…

They stayed married another ten years.

Barely speaking.
Sleeping in different rooms.

Both… unhappy.

…

Then they divorced.

Again.

…

Not long after that…

they became best friends.

Again.

…

Now I just have to laugh.

Like… you’ve got to be kidding me.

…

But I will say this—

I’ve learned a lot about love from them.

What to do…
what not to do…

…

One thing I know for sure…

When it comes to love…

I’m nothing like them.

…

And if I didn’t look like both of them…

…

I’d swear I was adopted.

…

© 2026 Bryan Loia Hudson. All rights reserved.

`’.,°~

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Miles, Music, and a Few Tricks Along the Way

What’s a secret skill or ability you have or wish you had…?

I’ve done a lot… I love a lot.

Sports… fishing… music… writing…
working out pretty religiously these days…
and I’ve always loved driving… oh… I’m a people and animal whisperer too…

I drove 18-wheelers all across the U.S. for 17 years… professionally.
Spent time training student drivers with FedEx Ground…
that part stayed with me… something about watching it click.

Same thing with teaching guitar and music back in the day…
there’s something about passing things on.

But if we’re talking secret skills…

I can juggle.

Learned it as a teenager from a guy at a pool hall…
with billiard balls.

And this one’s a little ridiculous but true…

I can throw grapes so high they disappear…
wait… track them back down out of the sky…
and catch them in my mouth.

Oh… and I can juggle grapes and eat them at the same time…

Yeah… I know… lol…

Nothing special… just a fun way to feed your face.

Not today though… too much other stuff to juggle…

˙uoıʇɔǝlɟuı ɥʇıʍ ƃuıs I sɐ ƃuol oS
…ʎɐs I ʇɐɥʍ ɹǝʇʇɐɯ ʇ,usǝop ʇI

© 2026 Bryan Loia Hudson

`’.,°~

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Coming Home… Where It All Started

First Song I Ever Learned on Guitar…

I’m laying here in bed… in the dark… listening to my YouTube music app.
Something I do most every night.

I’ll usually pick a song to start it off… then just let it go wherever it wants to go.

Lately though… one song keeps showing up.
Random… but not really random.

So much that it’s got me thinking…

It’s the very first song I ever learned on guitar —
“Coming Home” by Cinderella, off the album Long Cold Winter.

I learned it in November of 1988.
I was 14.

I had no idea who Cinderella even was at the time…
but that season turned out to be the longest… coldest winter of my life.

Back then, I’d go to my uncle and ask for CDs or cassettes.
Every time… he’d give me this deep stare… then walk over to his collection.

You could tell he was thinking.
Choosing carefully.

He knew what I was going through.
He knew I wasn’t just listening.

He knew I was building something…
a foundation… for who I’d become… as a musician… as a person.

He’s no longer here now…
but looking back… he knew exactly what he was doing with me 😁

…

Every song on that album is 🔥.

And it’s kind of crazy…
that an album with that name would land in my hands
right before my own long cold winter really set in.

To this day… it’s locked into my personal all-time albums list.
Forever.

Back then, there was no internet.
No Google. No YouTube tutorials.
No quick tabs you could pull up

No smartphone.

I didn’t even have sheet music.

All I had was a chord book.

So I learned every chord in it…
then started figuring out scales and patterns on my own.

Trial and error.

A lot of wrong notes…
but I remembered them…
learned to avoid them.

That’s how I learned songs —
by listening…
by playing along…
by feeling it out.

Everything was different back then.

But here’s the sweet part…

Lately, when I pick up my guitar…
I feel like that 14 year old kid again.

And that’s something I lost for a while.

I’m happy it’s back.
I’m happy I’m back.

Not losing these calloused fingers ever again 😎…

I took a ride in a world… I’ll be spinnin for the rest of my life… ♩ ♭ ♮ ♯

© 2026 Bryan Loia Hudson. All rights reserved.

`’.,°~

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Some Men Say It… Some Men Live It

Who was your most influential teacher? Why?

This is Pastor Wendell Wilson…
he discipled me.

I met him in June of 2o08…
and ended up living with him for about five years.

He ran a Christian rehab for men down in Florida…
and after I finished the program…
he asked me to stay on…

become his resident director.

So I did.

I served there for four years…

and somewhere in all that time…
he became more than a pastor to me…

he became a father.

He was one of a kind…
a remarkable man.

I could tell you story after great story…
so many memories…

but what stands out most…

is how he lived…

How he loved people…

I’ve never met anyone who genuinely loved others like he did…

And the way he spoke to you…

man… he had a way with words. He backed them up too.

He would say things to you…
right in the moment…
exactly when you needed to hear it most.

One profound thing he told me that never left…

“Son… people would rather see a sermon any day… than hear one.”

That stuck like Chuck with me.

I still carry it.

Because as powerful as words can be…
they don’t mean much without something behind them.

I can say the most beautiful things…
turn your stupid heart to jello…

but at some point…

I need to shut my mouth…
and be about it.

Show you.

Let you see it.

Because I’d rather see something real…
than hear something perfect.

No matter how well penned it is…
it’s empty…
it has to be lived…
it’s just beautifully nothing…

I’d rather see things clearly…
and say things simply…

let action… with feeling… be the real pen…

…

Pastor Wendell passed away at his home in 2o16…
surrounded by friends and family…

and it was beautifully real… to see.

…,’…,’…t

…

© 2026 Bryan Loia Hudson | bryanforchrist | All rights reserved

`’.,°~