– A question never answered, and a friendship that never had the chance to begin

Some letters are never mailed, yet they never fade — because the writer never truly let go.


A hero never met, a dream never fulfilled

“I just want to thank you — and if there’s ever a chance, I’d love to learn from you.”

I wrote those words on a cold December night in 1952. I was 19, broke, playing beer joints across Texas, and trying to sell my first songs. Hank Williams wasn’t just a star to me — he was the voice that gave shape to my own confusion, longing, and hope. That letter wasn’t meant for a celebrity. It was for the man whose songs had already saved me more than once.


But fate moved faster than my letter ever could

On New Year’s Day, 1953, Hank Williams died in the back seat of a car on the way to a show he never made. I froze when I heard it. I pulled out my old songbook, and there it was — the letter. Folded, yellowed, with messy handwriting and a heart still raw. I never tore it up. Never mailed it. I left it right where it was… like a goodbye I couldn’t bring myself to speak.


A silent friendship, but never a false one

Years passed. I became “Willie Nelson.” The name, the braids, the outlaw image. But one afternoon, going through a box of old keepsakes, I found that letter again. I read it, and this time, I didn’t feel sorrow — I felt gratitude. Hank never knew me, never heard a word I said. But he had been there — in every lyric I’d written about loneliness, freedom, or faith.

That letter never reached its destination, but it shaped the man I became.

And when I recorded “My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys,” that was my reply — my thank-you note to the hero I never met, but never forgot.


🎵 Suggested listening: “My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys” – Willie Nelson

Lyrics

… I grew up dreamin’ of bein’ a cowboyAnd lovin’ the cowboy waysPursuin’ the life of my high-ridin’ heroesI burned up my childhood daysI learned all the rules of a modern-day drifterDon’t you hold on to nothin’ too longJust take what you need from the ladies, then leave themWere the words of a sad country song
… My heroes have always been cowboysAnd they still are, it seemsSadly, in search of, took one step in back ofThemselves and their slow-movin’ dreams
… Cowboys are special with their own brand of miseryFrom bein’ alone too longYou can die from the cold in the arms of a night, manKnowin’ well that your best days are gone
… Pickin’ up hookers instead of my penI let the words of my youth fade awayOld worn-out saddles, and old worn-out memoriesBut no one and no place to stay
… My heroes have always been cowboysAnd they still are, it seemsSadly, in search of, and one step in back ofThemselves and their slow-movin’ dreams
… Sadly, in search of, and one step in back ofThemselves and their slow-movin’ dreams