The Music in My Head: Finding a Home in Music

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I love it when I can listen to good music and just forget about the world for a while!

Music is really important to me. I’ve always been into music – and these days, now that I’m semi-retired, I’m leaning on it more and more. The other day, somebody asked me how it became such an important part of my life. I don’t know, but I’m guessing if you were to ask a musician, or other people like me who just love to listen, they would probably tell you it’s something you feel, as well as hear. It’s hard to explain. You either get it or you don’t.

When I was a kid growing up in a small town, I wasn’t really exposed to a lot of music except what I heard in my own house. And what I heard there was mostly bluegrass and country. It’s all my father cared about, and therefore, all that was on… to the exclusion of all other genres. He didn’t like it if I tried to play anything else. I got sick of Bill Monroe and the Blue Grass Boys, Lester Flatt & Earl Scruggs, banjos and fiddles. Occasionally, he would listen to Johnny Cash, and I always liked him. (I guess even then, I figured out that Johnny was sort of an outlaw… a rebel… and I liked his deep voice. And when I saw him on TV, he seemed to have a cool attitude.) Mostly, though, it was the bluegrass stuff, and everything else was off-limits, when Dad was around.

Random thought: At some point in my childhood, I remember standing on stage all alone singing “The Wanderer” by Dion. I think I may have been around twelve at the time. (Guess I must not have been very shy in front of an auditorium crowd!)

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