Here it is, again. May 22nd...
My father would have been 75 years old, today... and his brother would have turned 85, tomorrow... and only three days from the stroke that would eventually end his wonderful life on June 8th, ten years ago.
Since he passed away, I go through a tidal wave of emotion this time of year... his birthday, his illness and passing two days before my birthday... it has sort of put a bit of a damper on every birthday I've celebrated in the past nine years, and this upcoming birthday will be no exception... it's not that it attaches some "permanently negative" connotation to it, really, but it has put a definite air of reflection onto everything.

I had a chance to sit and talk with an old family friend, today. He played bass for my father's band for many years and was a staple at every family function for many, many years. This man was probably more responsible for me playing the guitar than Eddie Van Halen, Alex Lifeson, Pat Metheny, Jimmy Page, Ronnie Montrose or any other "rock star" of the time.  On the rare weekend when Dad didn't have any shows scheduled, we would typically go to Eddie's house (I tink he officially goes by "Ed," these days) and he and Dad would drink and laugh, Mom and Eddie's wife Jeri would drink and laugh and I would hang out with Ed's kids in the living room, playing games, watching tv... sometimes around the piano, listening to Angie play and sing the M.A.S.H. theme song and other songs... taking a turn myself, every now and then.  On a stand in the corner of the room was a Yamaha acoustic. I would see it and wish I knew how to play it like Eddie could.  One night I had him show me a couple chords... we went home that night and Dad dug his old Harmony Monterey acoustic (a beautiful piece of 1940's craftsmanship- arched top with f-holes and a tobaccoburst finish) out of the closet (because all drummers secretly wish they were guitar players - fact). He handed it to me and said, "Here." My response was, "But Dad, it only has three (somewhat corroded) strings on it."  His response was very matter-of-fact. "Well, learn your way around those three and we'll see about getting a new set on it.  The rest, as they say, is history.  A couple days later, I gathered the family after dinner and played a very Dr. Dimento'd version of "Oh Where, Oh Where Has My Little Dog Gone," complete with equally-dimented lyrics about how it was run over by a lawn mower and scattered across the yard.  I know... twisted as hell... but I remember my mom and dad and older brother laughing hysterically and applauding after I had finished.  That weekend, I had a new set of strings on it and was learning the first song I would ever learn on a guitar... suprisingly not "Smoke on the Water" (that probably came second or third), but Alex Lifeson's "Broon's Bane," the lead-in to "The Trees" off of Rush's Exit... Stage Left. I "learned it," I guess you could say... and would go on to actually learn it "for real" several years down the road.

Anyhow, sitting there with Eddie, we talked about a lot of things... about the "state of music," today, and how lucky I was to actually have had parents that supported me playing music.  Even back then, it was kind of a rare thing.  I mean, yeah, I played baseball and football and rode BMX for years, but I would come home from practices and games and go straight to my room, close the door and grab the guitar.  Ma would confess only a few years ago that she would sometimes sneak upstairs and sit on the top step and listen to me play.  I honestly never knew.
I was telling him about how sad I was to go to one of my old school's football games a few years back and see the marching band I used to be the lead trumpet in... and count a grand total of thirty-two people on the field.  When my brother and I were in the band, we marched 200+ every year... and I sat and watched a band that wasn't even the size of our color guard on that field. It was a sad reminder of the state of music, today.  We were actually among the more "popular kids" in the school.  We got invited to all the jock parties, dated the cutest girls... at least half the crowd at the football games were there to see the band.  Sadly, that's not the case, anymore... and it's not just my old band, but all the high schools around here.  The music programs are almost nonexistent, anymore...
It's a bit disheartening to see how parents have turned their kids away from music in recent years.  I wish I knew why.  I mean, the parents of these kids were the same people I marched with back in the day and went to national competitions with every year in Florida and Tennessee, having the same absolute blast and coming home with trophies that were taller than us and being a source of pride for the city and all that wonderful stuff.

I took my musical "talent" or whatever you want to call it and the nurturing of it that my parents gave me and, while doing all that "structured music stuff" in school, turned it towards rock music... and despite never becoming "famous" or anything like that, I wouldn't have done anything differently. As a result, I've had a chance to do some really amazing things, made some really amazing friends and met some truly amazing and inspiring people along the way... a couple of which I want to talk about in a moment.