My parents thumbed through a name book in search for their firstborn’s identity. I guess they only made it through the “A section.” Dad prides himself on a good pick. I agree. Thanks, Dad.

When I was young, music tasted like freedom. We had a swing set in the backyard and I would spend hours every afternoon swinging and singing, rushing through air and pushing out air from small lungs, belting favorites from a Dionne Warwick's cassette tape, the Beatles, some of my own, lost to memory. Carefree, untethered, like a big gulp of air.

I’d daydream of little me on stage with other little people, my back-up singers. We conveniently wore magical boots that levitated us in the air over the stage - a touch of flair, naturally. I remember thinking, I'm gonna do that someday. I'm going to make a whole world of It …

Music gives body to my happiness & thoughtfulness. Immersive. It sends me from 0 to 60 in a chord change. You’ll know by my watering eyes when *that one part* hits. In the same way that I'm fascinated by archetypes in literature, I'm fascinated by how music brings us together, centers us - organic, unspoken, primal. And fabulous.

Let’s make a world of it.