Music was and is a huge part of my family. I started to write poetry (albeit not very well), because of the music that surrounded me in my house from the first days I can remember.
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My brother is a pretty accomplished guitarist and singer, my dad was a self-taught musician who could play just about anything, but then again, my dad could do just about ANYTHING, and I dabble (though dance is more my thing). And there just never was a day without music in my life, ever. As a child, we camped every summer with my extended family. We had one of those pop-out trailers and I remember when we upgraded to one that had a shower. It was the talk of the campground!

What I most remember though is my dad playing around the campfire each night before bedtime. We would sing and roast marshmallows and even then, I recognized how special it was. Sometimes kids don’t recognize that stuff in its moment. But somehow I did.

I write this today with a sad heart of the passing of David Bowie because I have an extremely vivid memory of that first time I heard his music. My dad played a very stripped-down version of Space Oddity on his acoustic guitar. There was always music he was playing that I didn’t know or recognize. I was young…maybe 10 or so…and I remember how affected I was by the lyrics to that song, how sad it was, which led to all kinds of questions. What happened? Did he die in space? But what about his family? He just left them like that?

And I actually cried about it. I’ll never forget what my father said (I’m paraphrasing the exact words—THAT I don’t remember). He said that sometimes people sacrifice what they love the most because it is the right thing to do. That there are true heroes that still exist, even if our world seemed rather selfish at the moment.

My dad was and will forever be my hero. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of him. I dedicate this blog to both him and David Bowie.