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Introduction

I remember the first time I stumbled across My List on the radio—it was a lazy Saturday, the kind where the chores were piling up and the to-do list was screaming at me. But then, as Toby Keith’s voice filled the room, something inside me softened. The song wasn’t just music; it was a gentle reminder to pause, breathe, and realign my priorities. For anyone who’s ever felt overwhelmed by life’s endless demands, My List feels like an old friend, nudging you to focus on what truly matters.

About The Composition

  • Title: My List
  • Composer: Tim James and Rand Bishop
  • Premiere Date: Released as a single in January 2002
  • Album/Opus/Collection: Pull My Chain (2001)
  • Genre: Country

Background

According to the Wikipedia page, My List was written by Tim James and Rand Bishop, but Toby Keith made it his own when he recorded it for his Pull My Chain album. The song was released as the album’s third and final single, and it quickly became a fan favorite. At its core, My List is about the simple but profound realization that the things we often push to the bottom of our to-do list—like spending time with loved ones or watching the sunset—are actually the most important. The song resonated deeply upon release, reaching No. 1 on the Billboard Hot Country Singles & Tracks chart and holding that position for five weeks. It remains a standout in Toby Keith’s repertoire, reflecting his gift for blending relatable themes with emotional depth.

Musical Style

Musically, My List is a classic country ballad. It has a steady, mid-tempo rhythm that allows the lyrics to shine without distraction. The arrangement is straightforward: acoustic guitars, light percussion, and Toby Keith’s warm, earnest vocals. There’s no flashy instrumentation here, and that’s by design—the simplicity mirrors the song’s message. Subtle touches like gentle steel guitar lines add a layer of wistfulness, reinforcing the idea of slowing down and appreciating life’s quieter moments.

Lyrics/Libretto

The lyrics of My List walk through a man’s realization that the things on his task list—fixing the sink, paying the bills—pale in comparison to the joy of being present with his loved ones. There’s a particularly touching line about making a phone call to his dad, underscoring themes of connection and family. The song’s brilliance lies in how universal it feels; whether you’re a busy parent, a career-driven professional, or just someone caught up in the daily grind, you can see yourself in these words.

Performance History

Since its release, My List has been performed countless times by Toby Keith, both in intimate acoustic settings and on big stages. Fans often cite it as one of the most emotionally resonant moments in his concerts. Over time, it has become one of his signature songs—not necessarily for its chart success, but because of the emotional connection it sparks. Audience members can often be seen swaying, some with tears in their eyes, when Keith sings this live.

Cultural Impact

Beyond its place in country music, My List has seeped into broader cultural consciousness. Its message has been used in motivational talks, family-themed TV spots, and even personal social media posts where people remind themselves and others to slow down. The song speaks to a cultural moment that never really goes away: the constant push-and-pull between productivity and presence. In an era when busyness is often worn as a badge of honor, My List stands as a quiet rebellion.

Legacy

More than two decades later, My List remains a meaningful part of Toby Keith’s musical legacy. It’s one of those songs that hasn’t aged because its message is timeless. As new generations discover Keith’s catalog, My List continues to stand out, reminding listeners that happiness often lies in the simple, overlooked corners of life.

Conclusion

For anyone looking to reconnect with what really matters, My List is the perfect musical companion. I encourage you to listen to the studio recording on Pull My Chain, but if you really want the full experience, find one of Toby Keith’s live performances of the song—you’ll feel the emotion ripple through the crowd, and maybe through yourself, too. Let it be a gentle nudge to turn off the phone, step away from the to-do list, and savor the moments that truly count

Video

Lyrics

Under an old brass paperweight
Is my list of things to do today
Go to the bank and the hardware store
Put a new lock on the cellar door
I cross ’em off as I get ’em done
But when the sun is settled
There’s still more than a few things left
I haven’t got to yet
Go for a walk, say a little prayer
Take a deep breath of mountain air
Put on my glove and play some catch
It’s time that I make time for that
Wade the shore and cast a line
Look up an old lost friend of mine
Sit on the porch and give my girl a kiss
Start livin’, that’s the next thing on my list
Wouldn’t change the course of fate
The cutting the grass just had to wait
‘Cause I’ve got more important things
Like pushin’ my kid on the backyard swing
I won’t break my back for a million bucks
I can’t take to my grave
So why put off for tomorrow
What I could get done today
Like go for a walk, say a little prayer
Take a deep breath of mountain air
Put on my glove and play some catch
It’s time that I make time for that
Wade the shore, cast a line
Look up an old lost friend of mine
Sit on the porch and give my girl a kiss
Start livin’, that’s the next thing on my list
Raise a little hell, laugh ’til it hurts
Put an extra five in the plate at church
Call up my folks just to chat
It’s time that I make time for that
Stay up late, and oversleep
Show her what she means to me
Catch up on all the things I’ve always missed
Just start livin’, that’s the next thing on my list
Under an old brass paperweight
Is my list of things to do today

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FOUR YEARS AFTER JOE DIFFIE DIED, TOBY KEITH WALKED INTO A STUDIO TO SING ONE OF HIS SADDEST SONGS. IT BECAME THE LAST RECORDING TO CARRY TOBY’S VOICE. In 1992, Joe Diffie recorded “Ships That Don’t Come In” for an album called Regular Joe. It was not built like one of the songs that would later make him the man of “Pickup Man” and “John Deere Green.” There was no joke. No neon barroom punch line. Just two men sitting together, talking about roads they had not taken, loves that had gone wrong, and the people who never got the chances they were still complaining about. The song reached the country Top 5. For Joe, it became one of the quieter records in a career often remembered for humor, trucks, jukeboxes, and the wild energy of 1990s country radio. But “Ships That Don’t Come In” carried another side of him. The Oklahoma singer who had lost a job, sold his studio, left two children behind, and gone to Nashville with almost nothing knew what it meant to measure a life by the chances that never arrived. Joe Diffie died in March 2020 at sixty-one. Four years later, HARDY built Hixtape: Vol. 3: Difftape, a tribute album made from Joe’s songs. Artists who had grown up with his records came in to sing them again. Reba McEntire. Darius Rucker. Lainey Wilson. Morgan Wallen. The songs came back with new voices, but the old man from Oklahoma was still inside them. Then Toby Keith chose “Ships That Don’t Come In.” He went into the studio with Luke Combs while fighting stomach cancer. Toby had spent years singing about soldiers, working people, hometown pride, and men trying to stand tall when the world did not make it easy. This was a song he understood. Two men talking about bad luck, then raising a glass for the ones who never got another chance. The recording was finished before Toby died in February 2024. It became his last studio session. Joe Diffie had been gone four years by then. Toby Keith would be gone before the tribute record reached listeners. Luke Combs was left singing beside two country voices that had both already crossed the line the song had been talking about all along. Two men from Oklahoma and country music’s long road. Still talking about the ships that never came in.

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IN 1995, TY HERNDON HAD A NO. 1 RECORD ON COUNTRY RADIO. THEN, IN THE SAME YEAR, HE WAS FORCED INTO REHAB WHILE NASHVILLE WAITED TO SEE IF HE WOULD COME BACK. Before “What Mattered Most,” Ty Herndon had spent years trying to get country music to give him a place. He sang gospel as a boy in Alabama. He worked Texas clubs. He chased auditions, sang on Star Search, joined the Tennessee River Boys, and kept moving through rooms where a singer could be talented and still go home without a contract. Epic Records finally signed him in 1993. Two years later, the title song from his debut album went to No. 1. For a moment, everything looked like the beginning he had been waiting for. Then June 1995 came. Herndon was arrested in Fort Worth after an undercover police sting. Authorities also found methamphetamine when he was taken into custody. The headlines did not care that he had just made one of the biggest new-country records of the year. They did not care about the years of waiting, the clubs, the demo tapes, or the first chart-topper. Ty entered treatment. The exposure charge was dropped under a plea agreement, and he was sentenced to probation, community service, and drug rehabilitation. But the real damage was not something a courtroom could measure. The record business had given him a stage. Addiction and shame had already started trying to take it away. He did not disappear. “I Want My Goodbye Back” reached the Top 10. “Living in a Moment” followed. Then came “It Must Be Love,” “Hands of a Working Man,” and years of touring through a career that never again looked as simple as it had on the day “What Mattered Most” reached No. 1. Decades later, Ty began speaking openly about the parts of his life he had spent years trying to hide: addiction, mental-health struggles, trauma, faith, and the cost of living as someone country music had not always made room for. But the first public break came when the hit was still climbing. A singer had finally reached the top of the chart. And then had to fight to stay alive long enough to sing another song.

15,000 TURKEYS. 135,000 MEALS. NOW EVERY THANKSGIVING, TRACY LAWRENCE SPENDS FEEDING PEOPLE WITH NOWHERE TO GO. In 1991, Tracy Lawrence was still waiting for country music to decide whether he had a future. He had just finished the vocals for his first album when three men cornered him outside a Nashville hotel. Tracy tried to protect the woman with him long enough for her to get away. Then the shots came. Four bullets. Surgeries. A long recovery. A debut record delayed while the singer who had come to Nashville for one chance was trying to walk normally again. “Sticks and Stones” still made it out. The song went to No. 1 in early 1992. Tracy became one of the voices of 1990s country. There were more hits, more tours, more years on the road. But Nashville had also shown him how quickly a person could lose the ordinary things people take for granted: safety, health, a place to go at night, the feeling that tomorrow was promised. In 2006, he and a few friends bought some turkey fryers, gathered in a parking lot, and started cooking. The idea was simple. Fry turkeys. Take hot meals to homeless camps and shelters around Middle Tennessee. No big launch. No speech about legacy. Just oil, smoke, volunteers, food trucks, and people carrying meals toward those who had nowhere else to be during Thanksgiving week. Then it kept growing. The Mission Turkey Fry became an annual Nashville event. Country singers showed up. Volunteers filled the fairgrounds. Benefit concerts were added at night. The fryers kept going long after the cameras had moved on. By 2025, Mission had fried more than 15,000 turkeys, shared over 135,000 meals, and donated more than $1.3 million to Nashville Rescue Mission. That is a long way from the parking lot where Tracy Lawrence nearly lost the career before it began.

THE FOUNDRY CLOSED. JOE DIFFIE SOLD HIS STUDIO, LOST HIS MARRIAGE, AND WENT TO NASHVILLE WITH TWO CHILDREN WAITING BACK HOME. He worked oil fields. He drove a concrete-pump truck in Texas. Then he went back to Duncan, Oklahoma, and took a job at an iron foundry. At night, he sang in a gospel group and played bluegrass with a band called Special Edition. He built a small recording studio because sending demos to Nashville was the closest thing he had to a plan. Then the foundry closed in 1986. Joe lost the job. The money ran out. He filed for bankruptcy and sold the studio he had built to keep the dream alive. Around the same time, his first marriage ended. His wife left with their two children, and Joe spent months trying to figure out what was left of the life he thought he was building. Then he packed for Nashville. There was no record deal waiting there. Joe took a warehouse job at Gibson Guitar, loading and unloading instruments during the day. At night, he wrote songs, sang demos, and looked for anybody willing to listen. A neighbor named Johnny Neal helped him get closer to publishing work. Hank Thompson recorded one of Joe’s songs, “Love on the Rocks.” Holly Dunn recorded “There Goes My Heart Again,” and Joe sang harmony on it. The checks were small at first. But they proved something. By 1990, Epic Records signed him. His first single was “Home,” a song about a man looking down a long road and realizing the place he misses most is not somewhere he can drive back to. It went to No. 1. The man who had sold his own studio, lost his job, and left Oklahoma with two children still back home had made his first record a hit before country radio had even learned what to expect from him. Then came “If the Devil Danced (In Empty Pockets).” “Third Rock from the Sun.” “Pickup Man.” “John Deere Green.” But before Joe Diffie became one of the voices people heard coming through pickup-truck speakers all through the 1990s, he was a man standing in a Gibson warehouse, trying to believe that losing everything had not been the end of the song.