The Sins of the Fathers

The first year of the new millennium had been an ominous one. Inexplicably, it seemed, the planet earth had become a much more confusing and terrifying place, all within the span of a few minutes, on the morning after my 55th birthday. For those of us who call ourselves Americans, that is…

The truth is, we were only experiencing the same reality that a large segment of the planet’s human population faces on a daily basis, but on a much grander scale, as befits our lion’s share consumption of the world’s resources. And in a very real way, we were receiving a dose of our own medicine; though, as usual, the ones who paid the price were certainly not those whose activities and policies had created the hatred that fueled the flames of destruction. They never are…

I was on my way to work at my day job when I first heard the news report on a Canadian radio station. I reacted with stunned disbelief, hoping against hope that what I was hearing was something akin to the Orson Welles radio production of ‘The War of the Worlds,’ but a quick change to the local NPR affiliate provided the ghastly details. How could this be happening? And why???

I felt the same sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I’d felt that day in November of 1963 when John F. Kennedy was shot: a loss of innocence; a fear of consequence; a crisis of faith. All of life’s trials and misfortunes seemed so petty in comparison. What was the point of creating music in such an ugly, hate-filled world?

From the time I was very small, music had been the one constant in my life. In it, I had found refuge in the worst of times, elation in the best of times, and comfort and security during the times in between. More than anything else, music defined my life, but in the dark days that followed September 11, playing music seemed narcissistic and self-indulgent, like Nero fiddling as Rome burned…

The Reverend Jerry Falwell then poured kerosene on the fire with a statement on television’s 700 Club implicating that the tragic happenings were an indication of his God’s wrath against America; specifically targeting gays, lesbians, feminists. pagans, and others whose lifestyles or philosophies differed from Falwell’s straight and extremely narrow viewpoint…

This ludicrous logic not only cast the perpetrators of this heinous act as agents of God; it also could have put myself and most of my closest friends at risk of bodily harm in the emotionally charged atmosphere of the day. People who are perceived as ‘queer’ or ‘different’ have been used as scapegoats for centuries, often with fatal results, as in the well-publicized Matthew Shepard and Teena Brandon cases. All of us know the pain of hiding our true identities from friends and loved ones for fear of their reactions, yet many eventually find the courage to live life on their own terms. For some, the path to self-realization is much longer than it is for others. In my own case, the path seemingly took many a wrong turn; yet I have few regrets, for all I have experienced, good and bad, has made me the person I am today…

Throughout most of my life, I’d been haunted by fears and doubts, remnants of attitudes developed in childhood and adolescence, and as I neared my fiftieth birthday, the life I’d been living had turned to quicksand beneath my feet, unleashing a horde of demons from years past. Now, five years into my sixth decade of existence, I’m living the life of my dreams, and my soul at last knows an inner peace. For the first time in my life, I’m proud and happy with who I am. The story of this wondrous rebirth is the subject of this book…

This is not a typical biography; I’m not a typical person. I feel things a little deeper than most folks, and I’m not afraid to show it - in my words, in my music, and in my life. There’s a difference between talking and communicating that’s the same as the difference between music that merely entertains and music that’s played from the heart. Both have their place, but once you’ve learned the art of communication, mere conversation just doesn’t suffice…

The heroes of this story are the people who inspired me, and the true friends who’ve been there for me at various critical junctures along the way. Without them, this journey might have aborted long ago…