I was raised on guitar, songs, piano,
and books, rather than rockers
my father didn’t approve of. In our house
it was traditional and folk
and only got as wild as Baez sings Dylan,
no small treasures. Plus all those piano lessons.
Before that, the facts are that my dad-maestro
had me playing baritone ukulele
and my sidekick brother singing
This Land is Your Land with me in harmony
as four and three year-olds.
And that I have become him.
Husband one turned me on to jazz, to fusion,
to Corea, Hancock, Zappa, Santana, to epic anthems
like The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway.
To birthing our own music-driven household.
My folks had forbidden me to marry
this longhaired drummer who still inspires me.
The rest is history. For a brief moment Continue reading