Music is magical. I have always loved it. Music moves me like nothing else. Instantly it takes me places, fulfills my fantasies, changes my mood, makes me laugh, and makes me cry. I'll never forget that day many years ago when I realized what music did to me-it was in the late fifties. I was at a friend's house and he had a new 45 record player and a stack of records, very exciting! I had never seen or heard of anything like it. Several records were played and then there was Fats Domino singing "Blueberry Hill". I was hooked, blown away. We played it over and over maybe thirty or forty times. The inflection in Fats' voice, the story, the piano, and the lyrics moved me like nothing I'd ever known before. When this total stranger sang that verse, "The wind in the willows played love's sweet melody and all of those vows we made were never to be". I would tear up and try to hide it from my friend because real men didn't cry over songs. Finally, he looked at me and saw the emotion in my face and at that point I didn't care, I just cried. I'm not sure how many people have ever cried over "Blueberry Hill" but it did it for me and opened up a musical treasure chest for the rest of my life.
Eagerly I joined the school orchestra and marching band and tried to further my interest in music. In August of 1960 I loved the ballads and music of the Kingston Trio and was dazzled by Bob Shane's guitar, a Martin D28. At a summer job I saved up $400. I walked into an Ace Music store in Miami and there it was hanging on the wall, a D28 just like Bob Shane's. It was beautiful, shiny and reeking of the smell of the Brazilian rosewood of which it was made. The price was $325. Without hesitation I bought it, took it home and played it for hours. It was wonderful, like a new girlfriend, new baseball glove, a 1957 Chevy. That night my dad came home and found me still playing my Martin, he peppered me with questions. When he found out that I had spent most of my summer job money on a guitar he said "Son, you will never make anything out of yourself because you don't know the value of a dollar". It felt like he had just cut my heart out. He's gone now, my Martin is still here, and I did all right. It has been my lover, best friend, confidant, psychiatrist, time capsule, allowing me to express joy, sorrow, endure death, explore love and pursue fantasies. That guitar is now a collector's item worth much more than the price that I paid, but the immeasurable value is the impact that it had on my life.
I wrote a few songs during high school and college then there was a creative shutdown. I put my guitar aside for awhile. It was life's crunch time; officer's candidate school, pilot training at Craig Air Force Base, marriage and three children. Then things changed, my wife died and I almost died in a plane crash. Suddenly, these songs started flowing out of me. When I didn't acknowledge them, they banged on the door of my psyche warehouse demanding to be freed and loved. I dreamed about them. Finally I began to compile a song book. I didn't care if the songs were not genre specific or if anyone was going to like them. They were my private cache of friends. At the time that I developed each song it was always my favorite. When I replay my songs I am always taken back to that time and place when I wrote them. I relive the feeling that inspired the songs, the person, the smell, the fantasy. It is there forever, Pure Magic!