From Family Story to Sacred Stage: The Journey of “90 Day Wonder”

There’s something special about writing a song that sticks with you for years. 90 Day Wonder is one of those songs for me.

I wrote it back in 2003 after hearing a story my grandfather once told me about World War II. There was a program during the war where certain soldiers—if they scored high enough on a test—would be fast-tracked into leadership. They’d go through a 90-day crash course and come out as second lieutenants, expected to lead troops into battle. These young men were called “90 Day Wonders,” and more often than not, they weren’t truly ready for what they were being asked to do. A lot of them—and the soldiers under their command—didn’t make it home.

That stuck with me. I knew I wanted to write about it, but it took a while to get the story right. Each verse follows this soldier’s journey, and with every new part of the story, the chorus takes on a different meaning. That was important to me. I needed it to feel honest, not just in the words but in the way the emotions unfolded. It’s probably one of the most emotional songs I’ve ever written.

Fast forward to 2018. My wife and I were in Nashville visiting friends, and we had a little bit of free time. We’d never done the Ryman tour before, so we figured, why not?

I don’t know how to explain it, but the moment I stepped inside, I felt something in the air. It was like the walls were humming with all the music that had ever been played there. The history, the energy—it was almost overwhelming, but in the best way.

Near the end of the tour, we saw a small engineer’s booth tucked away at the back. Turns out, they let you record a song there if you want to. So I did. Just me and the engineer, no frills, just a guitar and a microphone. I played 90 Day Wonder.

When I finished, the engineer looked at me and said something I’ll never forget: “You really captured what that time must’ve felt like.” That kind of stopped me in my tracks. It was humbling. I didn’t go in expecting much—just thought it’d be a cool thing to say I did—but that moment stuck with me. It still does. It felt like I’d left a little piece of myself in that room, in a place where music has meant so much to so many.

There’s an older studio demo of the song floating around, and I do plan to re-record it at some point. The demo captures the tone, but when I sing it live, it carries more weight. More vulnerability. That seems to be when it really hits.

Anyway, I wanted to share that live version with you. It’s not polished, but that’s part of why I love it. It’s real. And it’s meaningful to me.

I’d love for you to hear it and experience the story for yourself.