I remember being not yet five years old living in the country near a small town on the west coast with my parents and older siblings. Sometimes I’d listen to songs on our old radio. Occasionally I’d hear one I’d like by this or that artist. I recall Johnny Horton being my favorite. I liked the tone of his voice, the melodies, accompaniment, and back vocals. His songs were of epic events in history, and love.

Six years later the Beatles showed up and captured the attention of the world, and mine. Glen Campbell, Jim Croce, Cat Stevens, Gordon Lightfoot, Don Williams, the Carpenters, and a number of others, some male, some female, also shaped my musical world.

I was influenced enough to begin fooling around on guitar myself. Through the decades I got mildly better at it, but never took it seriously, and I never wrote any songs. I simply couldn’t.

All too soon came my early fifties. It was after work one evening, during a low point in my life. I was doing my usual clean-up around the workplace when I began “hearing” a song being sung to me in my mind, which I found to be very compelling. At first I wondered where I’d heard it before, and who it was that had recorded that sweet, though melancholy song.

Within seconds I realized I’d never heard it, that it was new, and being unmistakably sung to me. I almost never brought my guitar (which I rarely played) with me anywhere in those days, but for some reason that night I did. I felt as if I was being obedient to some higher calling as I reached for it, and a piece of paper. In less than a half hour there it was, from beginning to end, in longhand on paper before me. I was amazed, not at myself, but at what had just occurred, so seemingly unplanned! I had just written my first song, and I actually liked it.

In time I began to wonder if I’d ever write another, so incredible had been that first experience. Three months later it happened again. It took a little more work this time, though in no small measure it felt like much of the song had been given to me, as the first one had been.

Since then I’ve been privileged to write many, and I feel I simply must travel this road. So at this not so tender age in my life, and with the help of some great musicians, may I present my first album. I hope you like it, and that it speaks to you in some pleasant, entertaining way-and perhaps tugs at your heart a little.