Don Henley occasionally thinks about life’s intersections. About how things might have ended up if he’d turned left instead of right at certain points along the way. If he’d never moved from small-town Texas to big-city Los Angeles at the turn of the 70s, for example. Or never spent lonely nights hanging out alone at the Troubadour, the cliquey LA club where he eventually met Glenn Frey, alongside whom he carved out an unthinkable career as singer, drummer and joint driving force of the Eagles.
But when those thoughts do come, they pass quickly. Henley knows that life is a product of choices. Sure, there are blind alleys and unforeseen bumps and factors bigger than you are. But you don’t get anywhere by sitting around with your thumb up your backside, waiting for fortune to knock on your door.
