Music was his story. That itself gives full credit to his parents. His family was quite small, just him, his loving mother, and charismatic dad. They had a quiet life in a pleasant small town. They ran a dairy farm far outside city limits. Materially they didn’t have much, but they had each other. The family love that resonated with them was one that couldn’t be matched or replaced with fancy clothes, fast cars, and new gadgets. However the one little machine that would eventually shape his life - was the radio.
Through his mother and father’s generation, he was able to appreciate what today youth would consider, “old”. While the music he loved listening to was far from mainstream, he gained an extreme fondness towards lyricism. At 13 he got lucky when he acquired his dad’s abandoned guitar in the attic. At that time the boy had never seen anything more beautiful. The make on the headstock embroidered “Gibson”. The instrument was rich dark amber, while mahogany graced the sides and back. He remembers placing his fingers in chord on the neck, then gently running his hand through the strings. Despite the guitars age, it wasn’t out of tune. And while clearly dusty and neglected, its soul was not lost.
With the help of books, and what his father remembered from the very few times playing the guitar, he could play with confidence, and by his 14th birthday he was writing songs of his own. His lyricism was inspired by his mentors; Elton John, Johnny Cash, Lennon, Bryan Adams, Journey, Bob Dylan, and Springsteen. The dedications of his songs were given to the life he had and those he loved. For years he performed at friend and family gatherings, alongside those few pubs around town.
Now in his 20’s, the years passed, he was now a man. While his attitude matured, his lifestyle sure didn’t. He continued to work on the farm, and write, and perform. It wasn’t until he was 21 that his life would take a different route - his father died. Though the sudden loss was difficult, it had given him strength. What’s more, it was his own strength used to help his mother in healing from her grief. And it was by his father’s passing that he realized he truly needed a new life. His passion for song craved the eminence it deserved.
After a month or so, when he thought appropriate he prepared his life for the road. He didn’t pack much, just a few changes of clothes, wallet, notebook, and of course his guitar. He wasn’t going to bring absolutely every one of his possessions, because he was still unsure if the leave would be permanent or not. And besides, no matter what happened, home will always be there. And to his surprise, waiting at the front door was his mother with an envelope in hand. He walked up to her with a gentle smile, and she replied, “Here, your father’s been saving up a long time for your future. I think it’s time you have it.” He took the envelope and by the weight of it, he assumed his mother had cashed out a generous amount. It was so gracious of his parents to continuously ensure he was taken care of, be it financially or personally.
Before walking out the door, he said his goodbyes and gave his mother a warm hug. His words to her were, “I love you mom. I promise I’ll come back in one piece.” It was something his dad always said......
As he sat on the train, his attention remained out the window at the grey skies. It was all coming back to him - mom, dad, home, his friends, the girl who got away, late nights at the pub – Everything. Eventually his thoughts veered more towards the thought of his dad. It’s about time he fulfilled a father’s dream for their only son. Deep down he knew his father wouldn’t want to see him continue that small town living. It wasn’t for him. Music however, was. And while some worried about the loneliness he left his mom, he knew it was for the better. She’d needed that time alone. Her own son reminded her so much of his father, his presence would simply appraise the difficulty of loss. “She’ll be fine”, the little voice said.
He then began to anticipate those brighter things the big city had waiting just for him. It was a little hard envisioning exactly what, because he so rarely left his town for whatever reasons. His heart and mind would remain as wide open, and by that, he’d remain bold if ever disappointed.
The train came to a slow stop at his destination. He slowly got up and stretched, then proceeded to take his things out from the above carry on. With his bag at his side, and guitar case on his back, he stepped off the train. The heavy rain stopped, and it was now a light stippling with the sun preparing to make an appearance in the sky. The cool air was a nice refreshment after sitting in a train for most of the day. He took sight of the folks walking in all directions. “Here it is, it’s all on you now”. As he walked, he heard speakers playing Springsteen’s, Born to Run. It was one of his dad’s favorites. Smiling to himself, he knew what his next song was going to be about.
M
