When the music spoke, I felt it in my being. When I heard “Hello, I Love You” by the Doors in 1968, I knew that I had to do that! The Universe evidently heard, and in the first grade study hall the opportunity to learn to play the violin was presented. The math of a first grader doesn’t always equate. There is no playing “The Doors” by tomorrow! The joke was on me!

However, what I didn’t know was that my mom was a concert level violinist.  When I walked in with a violin, she freaked and went and dug hers out. She also jammed the harp, cello, flute, and piano. She spoke 5 languages and retired after being a teacher for 29 years. So let the training begin! Within a year I was keeping up with my mom, and my instructor Mr. Katler, 1st string violin for the San Antonio Symphony, trained me weekly at his home for free.

The funny thing is that I couldn’t read a note. The way we got around this was using the ring tabs for notebook paper holes. He would color them and then stick them on the violin bridge at the right location. He would then color the corresponding notes on the page. I would practice until the ring tabs fell off. Eventually this was semantic as I would have the entire song memorized in three to four tries. I attended an audition for the Junior San Antonio Symphony where I was awarded first string, first chair, and a second chair soloist.

Life changed when high school happened. Bicycles happened, motorcycles happened, and rock and roll was abundant. I quickly fell in with the unsponsored school rock band as a roadie. Little did I know at the time Erick Penson, lead guitarist, went on to play for Kenny Rogers. David Richmond still cuts local riffs. I don’t know about Jimmy Jory, the drummer, of course. As life goes Erick and I were out on the hillside at the corner of Callaghan and I-10, where the Home Depot is now. We were taking a break from practice. I let him know that I had joined the Navy and would be leaving soon. We jammed one last time. When we had to go back, I made him a promise that I would be good enough to jam with him someday. Thank you Erick, it has been 48 years, I am ready.

Joining the Navy comes with a new set of problems. There was no way to even consider bringing a violin that I had ignored, a trumpet that I gave up on, or a set of drums. The solution was a harmonica. LET THERE BE LIGHT! Stationed on the USS Coral Sea Aircraft Carrier provided a very unique opportunity to learn the harp (harmonica). No one could hear me play while F-4s, A-6s, etc. were taking off and landing right next to you. In fact, most of the time I couldn’t hear me either. It was more instinct playing. I could feel the note on my lips. It was like playing deaf. I did this for about a year while staying alive became a priority. We arrived in San Francisco at Christmas time. Everyone went home on leave, which presented something unexpected. The ship became a ghost town with 5000 people gone overnight. The blues calls me, it’s 5 AM. I head to Crash and Salvage with a junk boom box with purpose. I lock myself in and turn into San Francisco local radio. This time I can hear the music. There are no F-4s, no distractions, only the space of creation. About 2 hours into my session the radio played La Grange by ZZ Top. My skill and dream revealed itself, but life had different plans.

After being involved in a motorcycle accident in Hawaii with a local parked on the freeway. The ship left me in the hospital.  As luck would have it,  my soon to be discharge caught up with me and I returned to Treasure Island for 2 months of getting out procedures.  While I had all this time on my hands I reached out to a previous contact and was able to be a roadie for 1 show. That show was the Rolling Stones in Candlestick Park. Where British Flags fell from the sky. My apartment landlord was a filmmaker, and we would attend openings and rehearsals etc. The memories of a lifetime here include sitting in a giant Star Wars plywood X Fighter and then watching an editing session from the back row. It was a different language. OH! And lots of riding time on a 1970 CB550 up and down the coast.  I rode the wheels off that poor thing, and then from San Francisco to San Antonio. And that’s an incredible story for later. Ghost Rider and All!

Shortly after that my honorable discharge came through for time served. I arrived back in San Antonio and attended San Antonio College. I was offered a scholarship by the Radio, TV and Film department to be a DJ while becoming a cameraman. My dad found out, and made it quite clear that DJs, musicians, camera operators etc. never made any money and I should pick a better career. I was a pretty good carpenter, so I acquired a Construction Management degree from Texas State Technical College. Music/Everything/The Dream all took a back seat for many years. Marriage, kiddos, life and a big crash. NOTE: If you are not doing what you were made for, you are living a lie to yourself and others. You will eventually lose it in this lie.

At approximately 38 years old the worst happened. It was a devastating choice that will make the top 5 regrets of a lifetime. No one grows up planning to be an addict. When you lose everything there is nothing left but the Blues. I found solace, healing redemption as I wrote my demons out of me. My inner child cried along with all that rhymed. Years of healing later, these poems and releases of years of past pains and shames, are literally the music I play today. As you listen you can hear my conversation with God, you can hear the guilt, the shame, the remorse, you can feel the Blues.

I was once asked where my inspiration came from. Johnny Cash was in the studio and was asked “If you were on the street dying, what song would you sing?” This was how Folsom City Blues was born. Elvis Presley was asked, “Who do you sound like?” Elvis replied, “I sound like no one.”

Grandfather Earth, on a San Pedro Journey in the Machu Picchu ruins, I saw his face in the giant stones. I asked him, how do I bring wisdom back to my tribe? His smiling face slowly morphed into a golden guitar. I said my fingers are weak. He said nothing. So I took great effort to figure out how to work around this finger issue. Until I found a 3 string cigar box guitar.  1 finger, 1 slide. LET THERE BE LIGHT, I was able to transfer that tuning to a regular guitar. Which resulted in a very unique sound and style, since I literally taught myself how to play. 

So I write every song like it is the last song I’ll ever sing, with a message in each one.  And to me, I sound like no one. Please be your own judge of my tunes and writings for yourself. I’d love to hear what you think.