(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

ONCE UPON A TIME, in a far off and distant lifetime, there was a boy. A drummer boy. His greatest desire was to make music. Rhythm was in his bones and in his blood. It flowed from his hands naturally. It was part of who he was.

As a small boy, the drummer would set his mother’s cooking pots out on the kitchen floor. Banging and clanking, he did what came naturally, unaware and uninfluenced by fame or pride. The drumming was as sure to develop as was his ability to crawl and walk. To some it was only noise. His mother heard differently. Though she sometimes mistakenly called it “tapping” when he “played” the dashboard along with the radio in the car as his talent developed, she was always his support.

The first time he held a pair of drumsticks and played on a real drum, it was obvious to all that it was a fit. For nearly eleven years the banging, clanking and tapping was aimed at this moment. His sticks hit the mark in the center of the snare drum received from his grandparents. His rhythm and the moment were well timed.

His career began in sixth grade. He paid his beginner’s dues through elementary school renditions of “Give my Regards to Broadway” and “Hello Dolly.” His distinction emerged through his solo in “You are my Sunshine,” an eight-measure blur of smoking sixteenth notes and first performance nerves, fired by the crowd’s applause. Fame and pride were on stage. There he stood. A drummer.

His teenage years arrived along with his father in the orange VW Bug, bulging with his very first drum set. It was not the prettiest set. It was not the best sounding set. It was a starter set, a “beater” set. It took a beating well. Together the drummer and his set traversed new grounds of speed and technique. They pioneered uncharted territories of styles and rudiments. They were persistent and dauntless as a steam engine.

With the arrival of his first drum set, the drummer’s talent was confirmed and his ambition was committed. There would be no doubt that this was what he was designed to do and what he loved most to do. His quickly approaching high school days would soon prove it.

TO BE CONTINUED…