Although I play the piano, I never thought of myself as a musician, let alone a songwriter. Writer, yes. Since I was 13. But songwriter?
Life is weird.
You go through it, traveling down one road. Encountering detours that direct you down another. Rising, dipping, rising. You pick up loves and losses along the way. Strung together with a river of tears and ribbons of laughter.
Then one day, magically, maybe even providentially, all your experiences, all your stories -- the personal, the channeled, the imagined -- begin to converge. And emerge as songs.
So here I am. Here we are. Packing up some of those songs and taking them down a road I never expected. Never dreamed I'd follow.
Growing up in Chicago, listening to the Top 40, where on one radio station you could hear every kind of country played alongside rock, pop, bubble gum and blues. Nice.
My Dad. His beautiful words live on.
My Mom. Her love and encouragement is all a kid needs.
To Ken, whose creative instincts so often save the songs.
To Donn, who with striking just the right chords, shapes them.