I was given a gift for melody at an early age. My earliest performed composition was the pretentiously titled Septet Moderne for Brass, written while in junior high school in my hometown of Watkins Glen, NY.

Watkins is an idyllic little 'Father-knows-best' town in the Finger Lakes region of western New York State. The town sits at the southern end of Seneca Lake, and before it became known for Grand Prix road racing it was famed for the wonderful gorge that cuts through the surrounding hills and crosses Main Street on its way to the lake.

The country rolls out away from the town over green hills filled with secret glens and on to other valley lakes, lapping quietly at stone shores changed little since Indians tied their canoes there.

You could drive for miles without encountering anything but farm houses and an occasional crossroad with a country store.

My friends and I camped in those hills and swam and fished on the lake during an uncomplicated childhood, never realizing that the world outside was inventing TV dinners, latch key kids, and the dysfunctional family.

We heard about the atom bomb at school, and learned to 'duck and cover'. Our political affiliations extended to Captain Midnight and the Mickey Mouse Club.

I cannot remember not knowing what I wanted to become when I grew up. I announced my decision to become a musician in third or fourth grade.   more . . .