My dad was a barber, rock-mason and auctioneer. Although he may not be the best known auctioneer in the country, he’s ranked as one of the top ten in the world.
His father was a plasterer who couldn’t read or write, but managed to use a slide rule and become one of the most renowned ornate plasterers in our home area, helping make the Grove Park Inn what it is today.

My Uncle John is an amazing goldsmith, his father was a mosaic tile setter….you get the idea, lots of tradesmen who worked to become the best that they could at there craft.
Oh, and they all rose out of some of the most brutal family history I’ve ever heard about!

..None of them became stinking rich and they all had to fight to stay ahead of local politics in business.

That being said, it was never my intention to become a white-collar businessman. In-fact, I had it in my mind that the most honorable career was one of being an apprentice of sorts and then eventually getting to wear the proverbial apron of being a master of a craft like the other men in my family.

Fast forward many years and I quickly learned that my skills as a guitarist somehow paled in comparison to those who graced the cover of the music magazines that I devoured weekly.
Too stubborn to give up and instilled with the need to somehow prove myself legit in our little hometown, I put together a rock band and we convinced the locals that we had ‘made it’……we even managed to get a write-up in the local paper about getting the big break.
-Funny, our big break was renting out the National Guard Armory, selling tickets for five bucks and laminating our own backstage passes in hopes that the perception would be that of rock stars.
Gawd, I wish I could have been a fly on the wall, I can only imagine how garish we looked and sounded.

-My how time and reality flies

As I type this, I just got home after having played the 9th hole of a golf course for a cool radio station but had to stop early after my 1938 Gibson took a light kiss from a stray golf ball…..so much for superstardom.
That being said, I also recently got to play for a group of people who paid to see the band because I get to work with folks who believe in the same old-school notion that you work at it, get good at it, and somehow people will pay to enjoy listening to it.

I guess what I’m attempting to say here, is that one minute you’re ‘living the dream’ and the next, you’re living the reality of said profession.
Either way, it all adds up and it’s all good when it’s real.

Austin Cunningham has a song called “I don’t look good on paper” and I think it’s an excellent summary for a lot of us.
I have a resume’ as long as Princess Di’s wedding gown but it doesn’t amount to much when it comes to the day-to day of putting butts in seats.
Regardless of a musician’s resume’ the perception can be ruthless. Having seen and lived on both sides as a ‘professional’ I’m learning that life really is like high school. Sometimes, even if your kid is the slowest, least attractive and least talented, you root for that kid because it’s YOURS.
Unfortunately, once that kid goes outside of the comforts of the home womb, it gets ugly and real quickly…..I should know, I lived it.
Once I left, I had a rude awakening…..no one hurried to give me the ‘attaboys’ I had grown accustomed to and I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how on earth they could be overlooking such a grand talent as myself. (insert canned laughter)

At that point, I decided that it was either surround myself with people who were legitimately experienced, accomplished and successful or to run, tail-tucked back home so my friends could stroke my fragile little ego.
I’m so glad that I stayed after it because the experience and lessons are still coming, the accolades few and hard-earned, but I feel prepared (regardless of the situation) when given the opportunity to do this music thing….even when it’s playing on a golf course and taking it in the guitar by a stray ball.

A few people who made the most with what they had come to mind right now:

Larry Sparks
Abe Lincoln
Einstein
Ralph Stanley
Ghandi

I hope I can be that honest someday

…and good

-Here’s to the guppies-