Leave The Porch Light On

Written by Michael Horvath

The inspiration for this song came from a throwaway comment made by a friend’s wife. We were at a mutual friend’s home, and he was talking about remodeling his kitchen.  She asked how he planned to get the granite countertops out. He said he was going to break them up with a sledgehammer and throw small loads of the pieces in the trash each week.

She jokingly replied, “You can’t shawshank these counters out of here.”  She was referring to The Shawshank Redemption, in which the main character, Andy, escapes prison by secretly chipping away at the wall each night and gradually disposing of the pieces of rock in the prison yard each day. He cooperated with the warden and kept his intent secret until his full escape plan was ready, then disappeared. 

I had never heard “shawshank” used as a verb before, and the comment immediately got my wheels turning. I started thinking about how “shawshank” could be used as a verb in the context of a relationship— Shawshank (verb) — slang: To secretly plan and execute an escape from a relationship while pretending everything is fine. 

 I’ve always loved songs like “You Oughta Know”, “Gunpowder and Lead”, “Since U Been Gone”, and “Before He Cheats”.  You can feel the emotion in the powerful female vocal delivery.  So I went that direction with "shawshank" as a slang term.  

This song is about a woman who is being “shawshanked” by her boyfriend—and she’s finally had enough and breaks off the relationship before he can leave her.

Written by Michael Horvath

The inspiration for this song came from an afternoon at a marina on Smith Lake, Alabama with friends. A friend of mine kept noticing a pleasant aroma but couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. While he was at the bar getting a drink, a waitress came up beside him to fill another order, and he suddenly realized that she was the source of the scent.

He asked her what she was wearing that smelled so good. She jokingly replied that it was simply the smell of the laundry detergent she had used to wash her clothes. Jack was captivated by the scent—and by her.

The song captures a playful interaction between a man and a woman at a bar. The man is immediately attracted to the woman because of the way she smells, while she sarcastically tells him that it’s nothing special—just the scent of her laundry detergent. But that simple exchange becomes the icebreaker that starts a conversation and leads to something more.

Written by Michael Horvath

 This song is a tribute to the American road trip.  My wife used to take our two daughters on what she called “Adventure Friday” every week during summer break.

They would pack up the Ford Freestyle and hit the road early, never knowing exactly where the day would take them. Each Friday was a surprise. Sometimes the adventure was something simple, like visiting a farm, while other times it was something completely unexpected, like trapeze lessons. Whatever they did, the girls always had a blast, and I loved hearing about their adventures when I came home from work.

Now my oldest daughter has two young sons of her own, and she plans to start taking them on “Adventure Fridays” soon. She and her sister had such great memories of those summer adventures that she wants to create the same kind of memories with her own children.

This song captures the spirit of road trip adventures from a daughter’s perspective—the excitement of piling into the car, heading out with no idea what the day will bring, making memories along the way and paying it forward.

Written by Michael Horvath

 The inspiration for this song comes from the wives of two of my friends, who spend almost every weekend hunting for bargains at thrift stores, yard sales, and garage sales. They rarely come home empty-handed—in fact, they almost always return with a carload of treasures.

They tell their husbands they’re just going out to “run a few errands,” but their husbands know exactly what’s really going on. They just roll their eyes and brace themselves for the inevitable: another carload of stuff that somehow needs to find a place in the house or garage.

The song is a playful take on their weekend adventures and the little white lie they tell their husbands: “We're just running errands.”

Written by Michael Horvath

This song was inspired by an actual incident I was involved in years ago.  I was riding the train home from work, wearing headphones and mostly oblivious to what was happening around me. Nearby, a mother was sitting with her young son and daughter. A few young men boarded the train and took seats around her. They were loud, rude, and swearing, and their behavior was clearly making the mother uncomfortable—although I didn’t realize it at the time.

An older man wearing a military veteran’s hat noticed what was happening. He stood up and that was when I realized something was going on. I took off my headphones just as the vet politely asked the young men to quiet down and apologize to the mother for their behavior.  All but one sat and respected the request, but one of the young men responded, “What are you going to do about it, old man?” with a smile knowing the vet was no longer physically capable of taking on that challenge. 

The disrespect infuriated me and I jumped out of my seat, walked over to the young man, and told him he needed to show some respect and do what the veteran had asked.  I told him that I would take him up on his offer to do something about it and we could "get off at the next stop to settle it" if needed.  He thought better of it, sat back down and apologized to the mother and the vet.

I then apologized to both the veteran and the mother for being such an oblivious bystander.  The rest of the train ride went smoothly. Looking back, I think we all learned something that day—and it was the veteran who set the example by simply doing the right thing.

Written by Michael Horvath

This song was inspired by a close friend who passed away far too young after a courageous battle with cancer. He was a devoted husband, father of four, a man of deep faith, and a true pillar of his community. He served on the local school board, coached youth sports, and was always willing to give his time and energy to others. But above all else, his greatest commitment was to his family.

Our families shared many wonderful memories over the years, including a YMCA father-daughter program called “Indian Princesses,” where each father chose an Indian name. He chose “Running Late,” a fitting name because he always seemed to be hurrying from one responsibility to the next, usually on his way home to his family.

The song is written from the perspective of his wife as she grieves the loss of her husband and faces the difficult transition into a new chapter of life without him. At its heart, the song is about the love, faith, and lasting legacy he left behind.

“Leaving the porch light on” becomes a symbol of that enduring love—a light kept burning through the darkness, representing hope, faith, and the belief that their separation is only temporary and that they will one day be reunited in the next life.