A Musical Journey

A Musical Journey Companion Volume to “My Life in Verse”

By Pat Deaville

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A Musical Journey

By Pat Deaville

Copyright Š 2020 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

Additional copies of this book are available from the Author.

Pat Deaville, P.O. Box 6294, Lake Charles, LA 70606 pdeaville3@gmail.com

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Preface These poems supplement the story of my life as told in “My Life in Verse”. My students and colleagues shared specific parts of my musical journey over the years. But few people are aware of the full story. Most of my teaching career was focused on “band directing,” Therefore, my experiences with piano, singing, trumpet, composing, and drum-majoring were parts of my musical journey that went unseen by many. Likewise, my association with the Louisiana Music Educators Association and related organizations tells a broader story of my commitment to music education. My enjoyment of popular music reached beyond my professional work as a conductor and performer. So, I have included some poems and information that reveal my listening habits.

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Dedication To my Mother and Father Mary Deaville and Paul Deaville: They gave me the support and understanding needed for the journey.

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A Musical Journey Four Buildings..................................................................................................1 Piano.................................................................................................................2 Singing..............................................................................................................4 Trumpet.............................................................................................................6 Conducting........................................................................................................8 Arranging and Composing..............................................................................10 Excellence.......................................................................................................12 Foundation......................................................................................................13 Marching Band................................................................................................14 Call the Band to “Attention”...........................................................................15 The Question ..................................................................................................17 A Red and Blue Thank You – Finding My Career..........................................18 The Birth of Pride and Spirit – Lake Arthur High School..............................20 Tradition at “The High” – Lake Charles High School....................................22 The Pride of Bulldog Land – Jennings High School......................................24 The Beginner – S. J. Welsh Middle School....................................................26 The Last Dance – LaGrange High School......................................................28 Memory (High School)...................................................................................30 Memory (College) ..........................................................................................32 Memory (Drum Major)...................................................................................34 Memory (LMEA)............................................................................................36 Horn Bands.....................................................................................................38 My 60’s Songs and Albums............................................................................40 Albums that were milestones in my 60’s musical life....................................41 My 70’s Songs and Albums............................................................................42 Albums that were milestones in my 70’s musical life....................................43 My 80’s Songs and Albums............................................................................44 Albums that were milestones in my 80’s musical life....................................45 My 90’s Songs and Albums............................................................................46 Albums that were milestones in my 90’s musical life....................................47

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Four Buildings April 6, 2015

(Four Buildings that nurtured me as a child: Jennings Public Library, Immaculate Conception Church, Strand Theater, and Jennings Band Room.)

Crew cut and freckles. T-shirt and jeans.

I saw myself walking, in a hometown dream.

Some places looked new. Others seemed old.

I searched for the buildings, that nurtured my soul.

Crew cut and glasses. Barefoot and jeans.

I saw myself searching, in a hometown dream.

One place, gave me books, that opened my mind.

Another, gave faith. Taught me to be kind.

Crew cut and tan. Cuffs on my jeans.

I saw myself smiling, in a hometown dream.

A building, with screen and actors and shows.

A room, filled with music. A trumpet to blow.

My trumpet and books. The church bell still rings.

There’s drama and joy, in my hometown dream.

My body’s grown lean. My nights are now long.

I’ve been truly blessed. Been a beautiful song.

Crew cut and freckles. My walk nears the end.

My last breath is spent, in a hometown dream.

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Piano August 22, 2020

The journey, started early. Before, I had turned eight.

Began, with Ed Sullivan Show. The music. Stars, so great.

At first, was Liberace. But then came, Jerry Lee. Little Richard, fascinated. Influenced, who I’d be.

Piano, was my entry door. With keys, of black and white.

Music did more, than entertain. Gave meaning, to my life.

My mother, was a blessing. She understood, my need.

Father had doubts, but did agree. I didn’t, have to plead.

A second-hand, piano. Was brought, into our home.

I was only, in the third grade. Small hands, on keyboard roamed.

Not as easy, as it looked. But still, I loved it so.

Each morning, picked out little tunes. Then off to school, I’d go.

Parents, found me a teacher. Young widow, across town.

Weekly lessons, and daily practice. Right notes, finally found.

The first months, went by slowly. My Dad, was not impressed.

Reading the music, slowed me down. Endured, this early test.

By Christmas, I could manage. Some light, seasonal songs.

But focused, on fundamentals. Still playing, some scales wrong.

At times, it was frustrating. Was more like work, than fun.

Took a while, to see real progress. Must walk, before you run.

The target: a “recital.” At end, of the school year.

Each student, had a piece to play. We all, had silent fears.

Composition, by Mozart. Challenge, I chose to take.

The goal. To play it memorized. Also, without mistakes.

Auditorium, was full. Crowd dressed, in best church clothes.

The students, sat down in the front. Then one by one, we rose.

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When my turn came, climbed the steps. Grand piano, seemed large.

Took a deep breath. Fingers on keys. Into performance, charged.

Played, with enthusiasm. I did, hit one bad note.

But kept my focus. Carried on. So proud, in white sport coat.

My Mom, had tears on her cheeks. My Dad, with pride did smile.

They’d made sacrifices, for this. Beginning, was a trial.

As years passed, songs were harder. I grew, in many ways.

Those recitals, were so special. Each time, better I played.

My senior year, in high school. I peaked, in performance.

Through countless, hours of practice, discipline, and patience.

As I look back, upon my life. First step, on my journey.

A gift, that came from Mom and Dad. Inspired, by ivory keys

A second-hand, piano.

Was brought, into our home.

I was only, in the third grade.

Small hands, on keyboard roamed.

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Singing August 24, 2020

I did not have, a good voice. But never, let it stop me.

From early on, I sang away. Often, way too loudly.

Within, the congregation. Sometimes people, would stare.

I sang, with enthusiasm. I took it, as a dare.

Great thing, about being young. Self-conscious, I was not.

Didn’t worry, what others thought. Or strange looks, that I got.

Had no training. Just enjoyed. Sang, with radio.

If the music, was inside me. Out my mouth, it would go.

At Christmas, sang in youth choirs. Performed, at midnight mass.

In sixth grade. Joined small vocal group. “Sing softer” leader asked.

Voice was changing, at that time. My high range, broke to low.

Really struggled, centering pitch. So little, did I know.

I’d been, playing piano. For several years, by then.

When suddenly, a band did form. Trumpet, became my friend.

Was singing less, in public. I lost some, interest.

For me, trumpet and piano. Was where, I seemed the best.

But then, high school musicals. Got me, singing again.

Just in, the supporting choruses. Because, my voice not tamed.

In college, studied music. So singing, was required.

Was challenged, by Solfeggio. But in some ways, inspired.

After college, sang alone. For audience, of “one.”

Did it for myself. To myself. An outlet, that was fun.

Was not, till I turned fifty. That my voice, was set free.

Found my “key.” Plus, comfortable “range.” Vocalized, publicly.

Bought, karaoke machine. Good microphone, and stand.

Had accompanying, CDs. Was like, my private band.

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I’d play some tunes, on trumpet. Then sing. Variety.

Did this for free. Service for schools, churches, and charities.

I rediscovered, singing. The fun. The joy. Returned.

That little flame, I thought was gone. Within my heart, still burned.

No, don’t have, much of a voice. Never mattered, to me.

What count’s, how singing, makes me feel. Uplifted, magically.

I rediscovered, singing.

The fun. The joy. Returned.

That little flame, I thought was gone.

Within my heart, still burned.

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Trumpet September 4, 2020

Playing piano. Singing. At very, early age.

But still, there was something missing. Looking, for my next stage.

When I entered, the eighth grade. My musical life, changed.

A school band formed. I found a friend. My world, was rearranged.

My friend, was bright and shiny. Was made, of brass and dreams.

Small cornet, in a brand-new case. To me, so big, it seemed.

Our band room, was an old house. Placed upon, the school grounds.

We practiced, in the “living room.� Made rough, beginner sounds.

Had, some musical knowledge. Applied it, to my horn.

So, I did progress rapidly. A brand-new love, was born.

Little, did I realize. Direction, was now set.

Perhaps, it was just destiny. Caught in, a cosmic net.

The next year, in high school band. Musical life, evolved.

Band, became more than just music. For me, much was resolved.

Now was part, of something large. It rang, internal bell.

I had found, a new family. And new way, to excel.

Trumpet, replaced the cornet. Matured, as a player.

All-Parish. All-District. All-State. More polished, performer.

The trumpet, was the ticket. Began, to open doors.

Led me, to opportunities. It changed me, at my core.

Next, a college scholarship. That trumpet, was the key.

A chance, to elevate my life. Provided hope, for me.

Orchestra. Symphonic Band. Gave to me, new visions.

Brought about, a transformation. Enabled, big decisions.

The trumpet, took me places. I barely knew, existed.

Helped me, to make the big changes. That for years, resisted.

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It was a bridge, for crossing. Over, life’s big rivers.

Gave to me, a career. It made, my vision clearer.

It also, was a refuge. During, life’s stormy times.

A bright beacon, that comforted. Provided, peace of mind.

From first note, on the cornet. At tender age, of twelve.

My mind was set, on a new course. My heart, changing as well.

My friend, was bright and shiny.

Was made, of brass and dreams.

Small cornet, in a brand-new case.

To me, so big, it seemed.

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Conducting September 5, 2020

My senior year, in high school. First stood, in front of band.

Conducting, as a drum major. Not something, I had planned.

Others, pushed me towards, unique, leadership role.

Did not realize, at the time. My future, had been told.

During my youth, mind was set. A soldier, I would be.

Yet high school band, experience. Changed college plans, for me.

Enrolled, in ROTC. Army, preparation.

While pursuing, a degree in, music education.

Career, in band directing. Was catching, my interest.

Became drum major, college band. Striving, to be the best.

Spent so much time, conducting. Embedded. Part of me.

Was thinking more, about teaching. Still, joined military.

My first job, was my first love. A soldier, serving country.

But as each month passed, at Fort Bragg. Was dreaming, to be free.

Free to conduct, the music. To be, a band director.

To teach. Inspire. Create a band. Build program, from the floor.

Opportunity, arrived. Put uniform aside.

Picked up baton. Never looked back. With students, found my stride.

The teaching, and conducting. Were merging, into one.

I taught with words, and with hands. From dawn, to setting sun.

Conducing, was the icing. While teaching, was the cake.

Though time and trials, found recipe. Success, is what I baked.

Life lessons, taught to students. In ways, some did not see.

Till later on, in lives they lived. The things they learned, were key.

For me, the story simple. Was given, a great gift.

The chance, to conduct in high school. Enabled me, to shift.

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Altered, how I saw myself. The person, I could be.

Opened my mind. Opened my heart. Imagination, freed.

Standing, in front of my peers. Saw world, in a new way.

Changed my perspective, of myself. More serious, than play.

Conducting, was the spark plug. That set me, on my way.

Without that chance, I cannot say. Just who, I’d be today.

Conducing, was the icing.

While teaching, was the cake.

Though time and trials, found recipe.

Success, is what I baked.

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Arranging and Composing September 26, 2020

The first one, was in college. Requirement, for a class.

Marching band arrangement. “Get Back.” Inspired. I wrote it fast.

The McNeese Band, performed it. That, was very thrilling.

Never considered, writing more. Until, I started teaching.

I found arranging, useful. Familiar songs, I knew.

But also tunes, the crowd adored. As arranging skills, grew.

“Your Cheating Heart.” The fans loved. “Matilda,” was a standard.

Helped win over, small Cajun town. Picking right songs, mattered.

But also, did some pop tunes. Keeping, students happy.

“Close Encounters,” “Sweet Caroline.” Was fun, for them and me.

The marching contest, specials. “Black Saddle,” set the pace.

“Onward Christian Soldier” paired with, touching “Amazing Grace.”

“My Favorite Things.” Stretched me. For students, challenging.

“Ghost Riders in the Sky.” Pumped up. “Silly Love Songs.” Pleasing.

Fourth Quarter Jam. Tradition. A wide variety.

Played on and on and on, non-stop. The right tunes, were the key.

Clapton’s version, of “Cocaine.” And then, “Bad Company.”

From funky sounds, to driving drums. “You Dropped the Bomb on Me.” During this time, did not write. Anything, that was new.

Did not compose. I just arranged. The music, people knew.

That changed. After a decade. Left, marching band scene.

Became, middle school director. Where concert band, was king.

I struggled, to find music. To put, upon the stage.

Publications, were too easy. Or too tough, for the age.

Solution, was within me. I switched, to composing.

Series of songs, that entertained. Supplemented, teaching.

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My compositions, were filled, with skills, students would need.

First writings, taught all the basics. A pathway, to succeed.

“The Colt Suite.” Got them started. Using, fundamentals.

Had melodies, built around scales. Rhythms, and intervals.

The four movements, used four keys. Containing, sharps and flats.

Made everyone, think and adjust. At no time, could relax.

Next work, was the “Mustang Suite.” It’s movements, more advanced.

Mixed meter. Difficult techniques. Through these tunes, skills enhanced.

Though writing, focused on teaching. Included, artistry.

Enjoyed, building that balance in. Sparked, creativity My music, helped my bands to win. Awards, and high ratings.

Blend of skills, and musicianship. Performances, revealing.

These compositions, purchased. “Sueta Publications.”

Became part, of young band series. Utilized, across nation.

Arranging and composing. Was something, that evolved.

Emerging, out of job’s demands. Musical problems, solved.

The process, sort of happened. It really, was not planned.

But grew, to be a special thing. For each one, of my bands.

Arranging and composing.

Was something, that evolved.

Emerging, out of job’s demands.

Musical problems, solved.

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Excellence November 4, 2016

I remember, the moment. It became, clear to me.

Was on the bus. Returning home. With large, shiny trophy.

It took four years, of effort. In order, to achieve.

Sweepstakes, at the State Festival. Was so hard, to believe.

It was, the highest rating. To which, bands did aspire.

First time, in our school’s history. Were thrilled. But long day. Tired.

Our band was small. Yet special. As seniors, had endured.

For years, we’d fallen short. But now, our legacy ensured.

As we enjoyed, the moment. I did notice, something.

Across the aisle, in his bus seat. Our director, working.

Had briefcase open. Papers. He read, and wrote things down.

We all had smiles, except for him. Straight face. No smile. No frown.

He was focused, on his work. And I, was curious.

Why was he, not celebrating? Or sharing joy, with us.

He saw me, looking over. Like always, read my mind.

“In two weeks, we perform again. Can improve. Not much time.”

Spring trip and concert, scheduled. In San Antonio.

But this was not, a “judged” event. Why was he, worried so?

We’d reached the top. In my eyes. Next trip, was just for fun.

Was not at all, how he saw it. Our job, was not yet done.

At first, I just ignored him. Shook my head. Closed my eyes.

My mind, kept repeating his words. Was then, I realized.

Was NEVER, about the trophy. Or hunger for success.

Was, the pursuit of excellence. About, what we do next.

Success is good. Motivation. Aspire to win. Achieve.

Pursuit of excellence. Best goal. I saw. Came to believe.

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Foundation October 21, 2018

Learned so much, throughout my life. Each phase, a part of me.

But marching band’s, my foundation. Established, who I’d be.

The discipline, the music. The dedication, too.

Inspired, and taught me about life. And how, to see things through.

The teamwork, and the standards. Became, my cornerstones.

Though sometimes, was frustrated. The path, was clearly shown.

Sacrifices, must be made. Commitment, was required.

Pre-dawn, reporting to band room. By mid-day, was so tired.

In the heat, cold, rain, and wind. In mud. On frosty field With insect bites, and sore muscles. Numb fingers. Fever. Chills.

Memorize, all the music. Each day, we’d add more drill.

Countless hours, refining it. In band room. On the field.

Each week, a big performance. At games. Competitions.

Please the fans. Impress the judges. Live up, to traditions.

Those long bus rides. Away games. Get home, after midnight.

Up early, next day. March parade. Then more practice, that night.

At the marching festivals. Was pressure, to score well.

The announcer, on loudspeaker. Those ratings, he would tell.

The thrills. The disappointments. How it, would make us feel.

The joy, the grief, the smiles, the frowns. Was all part of the deal.

Learned how to deal, with success. The trophies. Small and tall.

Humility taught. For at times, brought home, nothing at all.

No matter, what had happened. The next week, was the same.

Take one more step. Improve ourselves. As higher, we would aim.

I have lived for many years. Band lessons, still can see.

In all I do. Each stage of life. It’s still inside of me.

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Marching Band J u ly 2 1 , 2 01 9

Once it gets, into your blood. It, will never leave you.

Becoming a part, of who you are. Ingrained, in all you do.

Standing tall, at attention. Enduring, summer’s sun.

The early, and late rehearsals. The grind, somehow was fun.

Bruises, burns, and pulled muscles. Glorious, water breaks.

Wind players, building embouchures. Each day, progress they’d make.

Learning the drill. Set by set. “Let’s do it, one more time!”

Percussion section’s, driving beat. Gradually, refined.

The Guard, experimenting. With new looks, and tough moves.

Each day. On the field. Wet or dry. Creating, unique groove.

Piercing whistle, Drum Major. Shouting out, the commands.

The Band Director’s corrections. Tantrums, and waving hands.

Somehow, all of this, blending. Into, a complete show.

Launching us, into the school year. Always, on the go.

For rehearsing, never stopped. Through the fall, rain and cold.

Trying to improve, performances. Towards our, final goal.

Bringing it, all to together. Each unit. At their best.

Sweat. Pain. Effort. Gave it “our all.” While, rising to our crest.

Marching band, experience. Was more, than what it seemed.

Learned about teamwork. Discipline. Earned healthy, self-esteem.

It was about, artistry. It was about, real life.

And it was about, sacrifice. While facing, stress and strife.

It was about, excellence. Dealing, with failure too.

And working through, disappointments. Remaining steady, true.

Once marching band’s, in your blood. It’s always, part of you.

The lesson’s learned, remain in place. And seen, in all you do.

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Call the Band to “Attention!”

April 12, 2015

(This poem is based on the thoughts and recollections of my band students, as shared with me in conversations and letters over the years.)

Not sure, why I joined the band. Perhaps, it looked like fun.

Was it just my friends, who encouraged me, to twirl that “plastic gun?”

The marching field, the practice rooms. That big, rehearsal hall.

Was WORK and fun, I soon found out, when “Attention!” was the call.

The practices, on summer days. The sun, it seemed so big.

We got free tans, and blisters too. And yes, we sweat like pigs.

Each day, we saw the sun rise, when school year had begun.

Those early morning, “drills for skills,” were never that much fun.

At times, we practiced in the mud. Even, when the rain did fall.

My hands were taped, my ankles wrapped. Still, “Attention!” was the call.

We practiced, not just early, but often, until dark.

Sometimes, we lit the field with lights, from cars, we’d carefully park.

The director pushed us, all the time. The drum major’s days, were long.

Our captains, and our leaders, were kind and tough and strong.

Then the music soared, the horns they roared. The flags, a glorious sight.

The drums were loud, and we were proud. On football Friday nights.

Stadium lights, mosquito bites. Stood tall, throughout it all.

So cold, we nearly froze in place. Yet, “Attention!” was the call.

We just let go, the brass did blow. Our big, 4th quarter jam.

We got the fans, up on their feet. They cheered, and clapped their hands.

The festivals, on Saturdays. We worked so hard, each week.

We marched, and waited for our score. Striving, to reach our peak.

The speaker called out “ONE” most times. We wanted to win it all.

Improve each week. Stand as a wall. When “Attention!” was the call.

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I even learned, to play that horn. And made, the concert band.

The music challenged, one and all. Became a “classics” fan.

The spring trip, and the travel. Fund raisers, all the time.

With parents, and our boosters, oh yes, we earned each dime.

The marching, the halftime, the concert band. I grew to love it all.

Made friends for life, our futures bright. “Attention!” was our call.

Today I’ll say, I’ve made a life, for which I’m very proud.

Through joy and trials, worked long and hard, to stand out, from the crowd.

Sometimes in dreams, I see the field. Hear horns, within the hall.

I know my life is better, because, “Attention!” was my call.

Rifle Line, Lake Charles High School 1979

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The Question June 11, 2016

For years, this was asked of me. By those, assigned to lead.

“What was it, that you saw in me?” Soft eyes, behind their plea.

As marching band, director. Needed, student leaders.

My process, of selecting them. Logic…instinct…mixture.

This sounds, unscientific. But instinct, plays a role.

That “sixth-sense,” which is inside us. Did help me, truth be told.

Of course, selections thoughtful. I reasoned, things out too.

But my best decisions, were made. When instinct, also used.

Looked for talent. Work ethic. Key characteristics.

Intelligence. Internal fire. And yes, charismatic.

I also, took some chances. On some, I sensed would grow.

Part of my job. Was to nurture. Teach them, what they must know.

The most, misunderstood thing. The message, I must send.

Is that, I chose many leaders. Hid carefully, within.

Inside the ranks, many led. Without, title given.

Done by example. Excellence. Inspired, all around them.

Rarely, would I let them know. They were, carefully placed.

Just the right spot. At the right time. They helped us, set the pace.

I spread out, all our leaders. That’s why, we were so strong.

Some stood out front. Others within. Each, right where they belonged.

A balance, was created. A chemistry, devised.

The successes, that we enjoyed? On all, we did rely.

Was blessed, with specials students. And special leaders, too.

We “earned” those things, which we achieved. I thank, each one of you.

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A Red and Blue Thank You October 18, 2015

Red and Blue. Still make me smile. Lake Arthur. Tiger Land.

The school. The teams. Community. And yes, of course, the Band.

Red and blue. A special place. There, my career did start.

Five long years. Twenty-four/seven. Changed my life. Stole my heart.

The town. The people. Took me in. Gave me, first chance to teach.

I grew. I loved. I worked. I cried‌as all, I tried to reach.

Success did happen. And more. We bonded deeply, too.

Much time has passed. Just want to say: Red and Blue, I thank you.

Students. Some now, grandparents. Are still young, in my mind.

Their faces, voices, and laughter...memories, so kind.

Don’t know, how to tell each one, how much, they mean to me.

I only hope, each understands. The things, they helped me see.

I learned so much, in those years. These students, taught me too.

Their parents, patient. Stood by me. Together, saw it through.

Did much right. Some mistakes. Young man, finding his way.

But in the end...was pure magic. These were, wonderful days.

Band directors, like coaches. Can be, much like nomads.

Had lots of jobs. Good bands. Great friends. Each time I moved, felt sad.

Yes, I taught at many schools. Worked, over forty years.

So many people, that I owe. So many, I hold dear.

Each place I taught. Filled my heart. Many moments, treasured.

All, of my students. Parents too. First-rate, by any measure.

But Red and Blue. Set the tone. Gave me, such confidence.

Over time, I became better. Wiser. More competent.

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Ended up, in Hall of Fame. But that, is just a sign.

Of what, my students did for me. Award more theirs, than mine.

As I’ve grown old...reflect...on history, we shared.

The Red and Blue. Pride and Spirit. The Band. The bond. Still there.

Band Officers, Lake Arthur High School 1978

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The Birth of Pride and Spirit April 18, 2015

(This poem is based on the thoughts and recollections of my Lake Arthur band students, as shared with me in conversations and letters over the years.)

“Pride and Spirit,” was the phrase. We understood it, clear.

It’s stayed with me, though all my days. Those words, I still hold dear.

When first, the words were spoken. Our band, was very small.

But school and town, they wanted more. So many, heard the call.

We had, a new director. We said, that “it was him.”

Who gave us hope, to build our band. He said, “It’s really them.”

Horns were bought, and we were taught. Our school, was filled with song.

Our band, exploded overnight. Became, a hundred strong.

Headlines! “Cinderella Band.” Made big news, with photos.

We buckled down, and bonded too. Had a special mojo.

Not just, a group of students. A District Plaque, to show.

That Spring, we were a full-fledged band. Our Pride and Spirit, glowed.

That rating, got us to State. With bands, from distant towns.

They asked us, “Just who are you guys? We’ve not seen you around.”

Our leader, told us clearly, “First year, is just the start.”

“Have lots to learn, and years to grow. Must work, with all your heart.”

“Pride and Spirit,” was the phrase. We understood it, clear.

It’s stayed with me, though all my days. Those words, I still hold dear.

Learned to play, and then to march. The trophies! Such a thrill.

Each year our band, grew more and more. Not just in size, but skill.

New uniforms, and band room. The parents, made it so.

Sewing machines, and voices loud, deep pride, that they did show.

Great drum major, that led us. A drum line, that was fine.

Our band grew strong. Our town was known. Those flags and rifles, shined.

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Fifteen, became two hundred. Grades six through twelve, combined.

The marching band. Big. Impressive. The concert bands. Refined.

“Pride and Spirit,” was the phrase. We understood it, clear.

It’s stayed with me, though all my days. Those words, I still hold dear.

And through it all, we always said. “We owe it all, to him.”

But to this day, he’ll always say. “You know, was really them.”

St. Pat and the Angels, Lake Arthur High School 1978

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Tradition at The High M ay 6 , 2 0 1 5

Taught Band there, for just one year. But with me, till I die.

This school changed me, and all who shared, “Tradition at The High.”

I was an innovator. Had ideas, that were new.

Altered some things. Retained some things, so steeped, in red and blue.

“The Bunny Hop” and “The Horse.” “The Trumpet Guillotine.”

Were kept in games, and pep rallies. Important, to the scene.

Fourth-Quarter-Jam, I added. The drummers, they went wild.

The flags and rifles, danced along. The Kilties, even smiled.

I was there, for just one year. I think of this, and sigh.

The people, who taught me about, “Tradition at The High.”

I led the Band. Was my job. But, I did discover.

“The High” was one big family. Helped out, one another.

Strong and true, the faculty. Into them, I did blend Cheerleaders, Mascot, Kilties too. A message, we did send.

Football team, and world-class track. Literary Rallies.

Tradition said, we lead the way. First…when points are tallied.

Black and white. We did not fight. We all, worked hand in hand.

With strong standards, were unified, within our Wildcat Band.

The trophies, were expected. And when, all’s said and done.

With marching band, and concert band, we did it. Earned straight “One’s.”

Spring Homecoming. I served, as Student Council Sponsor.

But in the end, a student led. She, had all the answers.

This event. A huge success. And much, to my surprise.

That senior girl, who made it work. Years later, was my bride!

Final concert. Bittersweet. Tradition, did ring true.

We smiled and played, just one more song. But hearts, were heavy too.

22

Rained and poured, throughout the night, on graduation day.

If you ask me, just angel tears. For seniors, on their way Learned so much, in one short year. What was, the reason why? “Tradition,� was the best teacher, who taught at Lake Charles High.

Band Officers, Lake Charles High 1979-80

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The Pride of Bulldog Land M ay 3 , 2 0 1 5

(This poem is based on the thoughts and recollections of my Jennings High band students, as shared with me in conversations and letters over the years.)

Achieved so much. Three short years. Not just, about trophies.

We also grew, in heart and mind. Band, changed our life stories.

We worked. We built. Marched and won. As members, of the band.

The memories, forever there. The Pride, of Bulldog Land.

In ’80, was the “Rayne Game.” The tale, still told today.

Now known to all, as the “Rain Game.” Our discipline, displayed.

The show began, lights went out. The rain, came pouring down.

Yet in the dark, we marched and played. The story, spread through town.

We filed back, into the stands. Stood, in the pouring rain.

At attention, our heads held high. We’d never, be the same.

That moment. Our turning point. We found ourselves, that night.

We knew, we’d meet all challenges. Uplifted. Filled with fight.

At LaGrange. Sulphur. District. We earned, awards and fans.

Finished the year, with loads of fun. Parade, at Contraband.

Next year. Developed more skills. Became, a better band.

Commitment, grew even deeper. The Pride, of Bulldog Land.

Then, the Spring of ’82, there was, a giant test.

We competed, in St. Louis. Took on, the nation’s best.

Best performance, of the year. And there, was so much more.

Six Flags for fun. Lakeside camping. Our love for band, did soar.

In the Fall of ’82, we really reached, a peak.

Ratings, awards, fourth quarter jams. Success, week after week.

After games, Director spoke. Inspired us, where we sat.

We shouted back, with this short phrase: (From Stripes) “That’s the fact…Pat!” 24

We marched, through football playoffs. New Orleans, on our slate.

We rocked, the Superdome that night. A special trip, to State.

We learned, much more than music, those years, within our band.

The lessons, are still part of us. The Pride, of Bulldog Land.

Achieved so much. Three short years. Not just, about trophies.

Made friends for life, set lifelong goals. Band, changed our life stories.

Band Officers, Jennings High School 1982-83

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The Beginner A p r i l 17, 2 01 5

(This poem is based on the thoughts and recollections of band parents, as shared with me in conversations and letters over the years. My years at S. J. Welsh Middle School were so special to me. My greatest joy was teaching the beginners. It was so inspiring to see them transform into young musicians right before my eyes…year after year. Likewise, it was an amazing transformation, witnessed by so many parents.)

The sound, that came out from the horn, was not, a pleasant one.

Our child’s first night, of practicing. Worried. “What have I done?”

I bought that horn. But now, had doubts. My wife, just smiled and said.

“It’ll get better. Just wait and see.” I tried, to hide my dread.

One week later, I still did cringe. Each practice, that I heard.

Sounded too much, like a duck call. I searched the sky, for birds.

It took a month, before I heard, what seemed to be, a horn.

Came none too soon. I thanked the Lord. My nerves, were raw and worn.

As holiday season approached, there was, a real surprise.

Was that, a melody I heard? And almost, recognized?

Thanksgiving, was drawing closer. “That is, a Christmas song!”

My wife did laugh, and poked my ribs. I softly, sang along.

Some of the sounds, being produced, more pleasing, to the ear.

The progress, was encouraging. Had quelled, most of my fears.

Christmas Concert, was packed that night. Beginners, were ready.

Director smiled, and led the group. Songs, both bright and merry.

My respect for him, grew greatly. How much, he had endured.

Hundred beginners. Taught each day. A “saint,” must be for sure.

We stood and cheered. Each song so clear. It was, a Christmas gift.

Lifelong memory, of that night, always gives me, a lift.

With spring, there was more improvement. Each day, new songs were played.

After many months, of practice, my pride, was on display.

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As years went by, music harder. But practices, more fun.

A love for band, was created. Would never, be undone.

Later, came marching. Booster club. Each of us, did our share.

Learned band was more, than just for kids. True family, affair.

Many contests. Trophies and plaques. Treasure, those moments dear.

All-district, all-star, and travel. That special, senior year.

The sounds were sweet, strong, and warm. They flowed pure, from the horn.

I felt much pride. And yes, I cried. Thank God, for what we’d done.

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The Last Dance December 15, 2016

Band-directing days, were done. At least, that’s what I thought.

Moved, into administration. New battles, to be fought.

Like a mermaid’s, siren call. A marching band, reached out.

At first, I did resist the urge. Was firm. With little doubt.

But this, was something special. LaGrange Band. History.

Great tradition. A storied past. Connected, deep with me.

Band, without a director. Just days, before school year.

I walked, into a rehearsal. What I saw, did bring tears.

Parents and students, trying. But things, not going well.

I knew right then. What I must do. Their fears, I chose to quell.

A show, had not been written. No music, was rehearsed.

We’d start from scratch. And make it work. For new approach, I searched.

I reached back, into Golden Age, of bands, and bugle corps.

Designed, unique presentation. If done well, high, we’d score.

Were weeks behind, other bands. But just, kept moving on.

Each day, each week, we made up ground. With show-design, and songs.

Old problems, to be addressed. Discipline, was restored.

Once that was done. Things did speed up. On Friday nights, we soared.

At first, marching festival. Our ratings, were straight “1’s.”

We outscored, our biggest rivals. But knew, more could be done.

Next week, LaGrange Festival. A very special day.

The twenty-fifth, anniversary. Blue skies. No wind. Sun rays.

Marching bands. Record number. Upheld, great tradition.

An outstanding, competition. We, did exhibition.

As sun set. Stands were packed. Calling out, the ratings.

I looked up. And saw the stars. Found, a deeper meaning.

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Finished the season. Last game. Then, final festival.

Again, we earned superiors. All “1’s” to end the Fall.

In retrospect, I do wonder. How all this, came to be.

Was not foreseen. It was not planned. At least, was not by me.

Perhaps it was, a higher power. Who gave me, one more chance.

Be the person, was meant to be. A beautiful, last dance.

LaGrange High School Band 1995

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Memory (High School) April 2, 2016

The summer of ’64. A Bulldog, I became.

And in the spring of ’68. I left. But, I remained.

Eyes opened, to many things. Girls and grades. Future plans.

So much happened, in those four year. Horses. Beatles. And Band.

In the spring of ’68. New person, I became.

Was the summer of ’64. My life, began to change.

Dad moved us, to the country. Answering, his life’s call.

His horse-training “hobby,” transformed. Now. Full time job, for all.

I, along with my brothers. Became, part of his team.

Feeding, riding, and cleaning stalls. Lessons, later redeemed.

Mowed and patched. So many chores. Summer heat. Winter rain.

The experience, did change us. As understandings, came.

The summer of ’64. A Bulldog, I became.

And in the spring of ’68. I left. Yet, still remained.

Listened, on my transistor. The British Invasion.

Beatles and Stones and Animals. Sweeping, ‘cross the nation.

Boogie Kings, mesmerized me. I loved, the soul bands too.

Something about, those brassy horns. Fan, of “Rhythm and Blues.”

The “trumpet sound,” got to me. As much as melodies.

Lennon. McCartney. Inspiring. But blaring horns, moved me.

The summer of ’64. A Bulldog. Not yet trained.

And in the spring of ’68. I left. So much, I’d gained.

Began to value, good grades. Great mentors. They did teach.

The girls in class, were beautiful. Yet, seemed so out of reach.

Most six-weeks, made honor roll. Near top of class, I stayed.

My first real date. The junior prom. A special effort made.

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“Date,” then became my girlfriend. Years later. My first wife.

We were so young. Had much to learn. Best teacher…sometimes, life.

The summer of ’64. A Bulldog. My life, changed.

And in the spring of ’68. I left. Some joy. Some pain.

First summer, band camp. Challenged. Was, a lowly freshman.

Tried to keep up. Was all so new. Each day: “Do best I can.”

Somewhere, during that first year. Competitive fire, lit.

Did not just want, to be a part. I wanted to lead it.

Became top trumpet. First chair. Pushed, and encouraged peers.

Became, Band Captain. Drum Major. A special, senior year.

My last year, we did it all. Earned sweepstakes. District. State.

Band’s reputation, grew so much. Broke ceilings. Opened gates.

The summer of ’64. A Bulldog. Still untamed.

And in the spring of ’68. Was different. And the same.

Football teams, made the playoffs. Musicals, we produced.

Girls basketball team, were State Champs. Sheer joy. To tears reduced.

Prepared ourselves. Future lives. None, exactly the same.

Joined many clubs. Service projects. Concerts, stock shows, and games.

Graduation. Together. It would be, our last chance.

We all sang, “Born Free.” Our class song. Then Country Club. Last dance.

We danced and ate. Hugged and kissed. Four years, were at an end.

We will be classmates, forever. But more important…friends.

The summer of ’64. My life, began to change.

And in the spring of ’68. New person, I became.

31

Memory (College) April 3, 2016

“College! Best years of my life!” I have heard people say.

That’s not, how I remember it. For me, just not that way.

Don’t get me wrong. Some parts great. But nothing, came easy.

My scholarship. My only hope. Days, not light or breezy.

Had to maintain, GPA. I did not have, money.

Keep grades up. Or lose scholarship. For me. Grades weren’t funny.

I admit. Loved the challenge. Competition, appealed.

I burned the candle, at both ends. And yes, skipped lots of meals.

I was, a music major. A challenge, in itself.

Many, practice hours required. Had, to produce results.

Dean of Music, lectured us. A large, talented class.

“A few of you, will graduate. Most of you, just won’t last.”

That moment. Became intense. Determined, to survive.

Put all I had, into this task. Huge challenge, in my life.

I was, a trumpet player. This was not, like high school.

Everyone was good. Some were great. Talent and toughness, ruled.

Rehearsals. Band. Orchestra. And Jazz Ensemble, too.

Played in the “pit,” for musicals. Lips often swollen. Bruised.

Became, the first chair trumpet. In orchestra, and band.

Was at my peak, as a player. Some saw me, as “the man.”

Prepared, for academics. The music courses, rough.

No matter how much, I studied. Never, seemed like enough.

Four years, in ROTC. So many, extra hours.

The drills. Classes. Basic training. No weaklings. No cowards.

Break up. Make up. My girlfriend. Always seemed, in turmoil.

We struggled, to find happiness. Ecstasy, and recoil.

32

Marching band, was evolving. Had, a new director.

He transformed us, in my four years. Became, a real power.

Were hundreds strong. Colorful. Many crowds, we did please.

Our “Brother Love’s Salvation Show.” “The Sound of Seventies.”

I became, the Drum Major. Sophomore, through senior year.

Developed, unique style and flash. Still hold, those moments dear.

Tragedy. Late, junior year. My lip gave out. Dead nerves.

Could not play my trumpet, at all. Did not, know where to turn.

Had to perform. Requirement. A “senior recital.”

But could not play. Was this the end? Trapped, in downward spiral.

I switched, to the Baritone. A horn, I’d never played.

Worked hard. Practiced countless hours. Then came, recital day.

I managed, to get through it. I earned, a passing grade.

Was not an “A.” But that’s O.K. At least, I’d graduate.

Graduation day, arrived. I sat in, with the band.

They called out, “honors.” I waited. Not sure, where I would land.

Ended up. First in my class. Five hundred graduates.

Had highest, GPA of all. The feeling. Hard to state.

I guess, it was more “relief.” I had, survived it all.

Sacrificed, and gave it my best. I did, scale every wall.

Yes, I did achieve my goals. On that, reflect with pride.

I also, gave up many things. Forever, changed inside.

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Memory (Drum Major) J u ly 31 , 2 01 6

Strange, how things in life happen. That aren’t, part of your plan.

Was not at all, a goal of mine. To be drum major. Band.

I loved, playing my trumpet. All, I wanted to do.

But Director, asked more of me. Somehow of course, he knew.

Directors, have this special sense. Of what, each child can be.

Tried out. Selected. Still unsure. Of what, he saw in me.

My senior year, in high school. Was chosen, for this role.

My future changed course, at that point. Direction, that was bold.

A drum major, does conducting. But so much more, than that.

You are a leader, from within. While wearing, many hats.

My duty list, grew longer. Each day, given new task.

The band, was at the core of me. Would do, all that was asked.

I know, I made an impact. On success, the band had.

Drum majoring, got in my blood. I really, had it bad.

But then, was off to college. That phase of life, in past.

Re-focused, on my trumpet. And that, was still a blast.

Strange how sometimes, things repeat. Yet still, not in your plan.

The college director, pushed me. Be my drum major. Band.

It was just, my sophomore year. Lots, of upperclassmen.

Would they accept me? Let me lead? They did. I did not bend.

I owned the role. Gave my all. For three years, grew with band.

We evolved. Show band to Corps band. New style, caught many fans.

Progressed, from mace to free style. Set trends, and broke old rules.

Was more, than a field conductor. I was spark plug. And fuel.

Generated, excitement. Not sure, how it happened.

But, when in uniform, became‌very different person.

34

Band grew large. The sound was BIG. So loud, my ears would ring.

The left ear, took it better. My right ear. It would sting.

Extreme effort, on the field. Physically exhausting.

The day after, performances. Whole body, was hurting.

Shoulder muscles, burned and bit. Could not, raise arms next day.

But through the week, I would improve. Fight through pain. Find a way.

Sometimes voice, became so hoarse. That I, could barely speak.

Rested. And tried not to talk much. Until, late in the week.

Was it worth it? Yes, it was. Looking back. Older man.

Endured. Excelled. Also became. The person, who I am.

The story, did not end there. Became, band director.

Along the way, taught drum majors. Helped many. Watched them soar.

Was instructor. DM camps. Across the south. For years.

Shared what I knew, and pushed them hard. So proud, I would shed tears.

Some of my best memories. Are DM’s, from the past.

These drum majors, live in my heart. Strong feelings, that do last.

No, the whole experience. Was not, part of my plan.

Two wise directors, did lead me. To unknown, promised land.

Was it worth it? Yes, it was.

Looking back. Older man.

Endured. Excelled. Also became.

The person, who I am.

35

Memory (LMEA) April 30, 2016

Organizations, helped me. Slowly, made me better.

Colleagues and friends, nurturing me. I became, a leader.

LMEA. A member. For over, forty years.

As a rookie, had great mentors. Helped me, though doubts and fears.

Like most young teachers, struggled. Was not, all smooth sailing.

But veterans, watched over me. Through winning, and failing.

Grew, as a professional. With small, leadership roles.

In local organizations. First tentative. Then bold.

I did evolve, step by step. A gradual, process.

I learned to watch. Listened closely. To those, who were the best.

First office, Secretary. Then, became Treasurer.

A chairman. VP. President. District Band Directors.

Among the lessons, I learned. Climbing, up this ladder.

Surround yourself, with good people. Critical, for leaders.

Over time, was more active. State Organization.

Appointed, Board of Directors. This, a revelation.

Administrative leader. Over, a large region.

Finances. Festivals. Meetings. All, demand attention.

Then new assignment, given. State Conference Chairman.

Set-up clinics, and made schedules. All-State, Choirs and Bands.

Found this, very challenging. Successes, and stumbles.

But each year, made Conference larger. Not afraid, to gamble.

Conference, became gigantic. During, my long tenure.

Chairman. 25 years. Excelled. Judged, by any measure.

To “Phi Beta Mu,” chosen. Honor Fraternity This means so much. Top peers’ respect. Special society.

36

Recognized. International. World-wide. Band Directors.

Became, State Chapter President. An honor, I treasure.

Favorite, leadership role? Has been as Editor.

“Louisiana Musician.” For me, opened more doors.

LMEA’s magazine. Official document.

Did this job, for several decades. A great experience.

Create, editorials. Promote, our vocation.

Articles published, far and wide. Read, across the nation.

Changed the magazine, over time. Printed and mailed for years.

I made it digital. On-line. A move, young members cheered.

Took on, more roles and duties World, continued to turn.

Webmaster. Social media. There was so much, I learned.

Like, be yourself, but evolve. Admit, when you are wrong.

Make tough decisions. Do your job. Be humble. But be strong.

I owe “associations.” Lifted me. Many ways.

Gave me chances. And stood by me. Through, some difficult days.

I worked hard. And sacrificed. In turn, so much received.

Got opportunities, to lead Because, others believed.

Create, editorials.

Promote, our vocation.

Articles published, far and wide.

Read, across the nation.

37

Horn Bands March 2, 2016

Certain things, within our lives. Embedded, in us deep.

The sound of “trumpets,” fill my heart. Memories, I keep.

I played piano, early on. My tastes, were eclectic.

“Liberace.” “Little Richard.” Both to me…fantastic.

Became, a trumpet player. Inspired, by what I heard.

That sound touched me, down to my soul. Cannot describe, in words.

Vocalists, get attention. Guitars, and drummers too.

But I am drawn, to big brass sounds. In pop, jazz, soul, and blues.

I confess. Loved Herb Alpert. His smooth, number-one hits.

Bert Kaempfert’s “Wonderland by Night.” Al Hirt’s “Sugar Lips.”

While Beatles, did hit me hard. “I want to hold your hand…”

The music, that really grabbed me. Had “horns,” mixed in the band.

The Buckinghams, and Grass Roots. Brass used, to fill in parts.

Trumpets, lifting Dusty Springfield. As her ballads, broke hearts.

Later, found the Boogie Kings. Their special, “blue-eyed” soul.

And Lydia Pense, with Cold Blood. A great group, truth be told.

Some, studio producers. Desired, that rich horn sound.

They hired brass, and sax players. Top people. Great renown.

The Memphis Horns. Stax Records. They backed up, Sam and Dave.

Playing with Otis. Pickett too. Their soul sound, was the rage.

Funk Brothers horns, with Motown. Stevie Wonder. Supremes.

The Wrecking Crew. Studio band. That owned, the L. A. scene.

“25 or 6 to 4.” Chicago. Great horn band.

“Spinning Wheel.” Blood, Sweat and Tears. Big hits, throughout the land.

“Get It On.” Trumpets did soar. Bill Chase’s, screaming style.

Earth Wind and Fire. Sly’s Family Stone. They really, drove me wild.

38

Tower of Power hit me. With songs, like “What is Hip.” I was amazed, at how they played. Trumpets, with leather lips.

My list, of trumpet heroes? Most, you’ll never know.

Names not found, on record jackets. Made very little, dough.

But still, their music shines on. In immortality.

My Kindle Fire. And my smart phone. Have captured them, for me.

39

My 60’s Songs and Albums March 29, 2020

The music, of the 60s. Still plays, within my head.

Not just singles, but albums. From which, my soul was fed.

Love and wedding song, “At Last.” And then, “You Don’t Own Me.” “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow.” “Misty.” “Let It Be Me.” .

Up-tempo songs, sang along. “Breaking-up is Hard to Do.” “He’s So Fine.” “The Locomotion” and “Fingertips, Part 2.”

Soul, was on the radio. “Stop, In the Name of Love.”

“Hold On, I’m Coming.” “I Feel Good.” Booker T’s, “Green Onions.”

The West Coast, had an impact. “Lost that Lovin’ Feeling.”

“I Got You Babe.” “Help Me, Rhonda.” “Boots are made for Walkin’.”

The British invasion, too. “I Want to Hold Your Hand.”

“Can’t Buy Me Love.” “Satisfaction.” “I Wanna Be Your Man.” By then, I was in high school. Ready, to hear much more.

Albums, became important then. From Beatles, to the Doors.

The album, “Meet the Beatles.” I played it, countless times.

“Out of Our Heads.” The Rolling Stones. Can still hear, in my mind.

Along came, “Sounds of Silence.” Folk-rock album. Surprised.

“Ode to Billie Joe,” entranced me. First time I heard it, cried.

The guitar masters, were thrilling. Clapton, on “Wheels of Fire.”

Jimi’s, “Are You Experienced.” Guitar, a pagan pyre.

My taste diverse. Many styles. “Funny Girl,” with Streisand.

“Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison” and “Wichita Lineman.”

Those albums, by Chicago. Of course, “Blood, Sweat and Tears.”

Reinforced, my love of horn bands. Great way, to end these years.

For yes, the 60’s ended. But parts, still live in me.

Songs and albums that shaped my life…before the 70’s.

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Albums in

t h at

m y

60’s

w ere

m il es t on es

m u sica l

l ife

.

1960 Sketches of Spain - Miles Davis 1961 At Last - Etta James 1962 Modern Sounds in Country and Western - Ray Charles 1963 Live at the Apollo - James Brown I’ll Cry If I Want To - Lesley Gore 1964 Meet the Beatles - The Beatles 1965 Out of Our Heads - The Rolling Stones Otis Blue - Otis Redding 1966 Sounds of Silence - Simon and Garfunkel Strangers in the Night - Frank Sinatra Pet Sounds - The Beach Boys 1967 Ode to Billie Joe - Bobby Gentry Sounds Like - Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass.

Are You Experienced - The Jimi Hendrix Experience How Great Thou Art - Elvis Presley The Doors - The Doors 1968 Wheels of Fire - Cream with Eric Clapton Funny Girl - Barbara Streisand Lady Soul - Aretha Franklin Cheap Thrills - Big Brother and the Holding Company with Janis Joplin Wichita Lineman - Glen Campbell Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison - Johnny Cash 1969 Chicago Transit Authority - Chicago Transit Authority Green River - Creedence Clearwater Revival.

Moondance - Van Morrison.

Dusty in Memphis - Dusty Springfield Blood, Sweat, and Tears - Blood, Sweat, and Tears.

Stand - Sly and the Family Stone.

41

My 70’s Songs and Albums March 30, 2020

The soundtrack, of the 70’s. A great decade, for me.

Music across, a broad spectrum. From soft, to wild and free.

Some mellow singles, early on. “Torn, Between Two Lovers.”

“Killing Me Softly with His Song” plus “Let’s Stay Together.”

Great dancing tunes, came along. “Le Freak” and “I Will Survive.”

“The Dancing Queen.” “Crocodile Rock.” The Bee Gees. “Stayin’ Alive.”

From Broadway shows, and movies. “Theme from Shaft.” “Candy Man.” “You Light Up My Life.” Frankie’s, “Grease.” “Star Wars/Cantina Band.”

Classics. “Stairway to Heaven.” Bruce Springsteen’s, “Born to Run.” “Hotel California,” “Sir Duke,” and Paul’s, “Band on the Run.” Of course, “I’m Your Boogie Man.” From KC’s, sunshine world.

“Sultans of Swing.” “I’ll Take You There.” “Car Wash.” “Hot Stuff/Bad Girls.”

I could go on, forever. There are, so many more.

But albums, must be mentioned too. Start with, “Led Zeppelin IV.” Carpenters’, “A Song for You.” Santana’s, “Abraxas.”

“Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.” George, with “All Things Must Pass.”

“Tapestry,” by Carole King. Taylor’s, “Sweet Baby James.”

“Running on Empty.” Jackson Browne. These three, were so acclaimed.

“4 Way Street.” Decade’s icons. Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young.

“Songs in the Key of Life,” broke ground. With Stevie, having fun.

Crossover artists, scored big. “Gambler.” Kenny Rogers.

Willie Nelson’s, moving “Stardust.” “Evening with John Denver.”

Blown away, by “Off the Wall.” Michael Jackson. Pure gold.

Rocked to, “Boston.” “Bad Company.” Chilled out, with Billy Joel.

And when, the decade ended. The music, stayed in me.

Those 70’s sounds, and lyrics. Were more, than memories.

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Albums in

t h at

m y

70’s

w ere

m il es t on es

m u sical

l ife

.

1970 Sweet Baby James - James Taylor Abraxas - Santana All Things Must Pass - George Harrison 1971 Sticky Fingers - The Rolling Stones 4 Way Street - Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young Tapestry - Carole King Led Zeppelin IV - Led Zeppelin 1972 A Song for You - Carpenters Harvest - Neil Young 1973 Aloha from Hawaii - Elvis Presley Goodbye Yellow Brick Road - Elton John Band on the Run - Paul McCartney and Wings 1974 Bad Co. - Bad Company Heart Like A Wheel - Linda Ronstadt 1975 An Evening with John Denver - John Denver Gratitude - Earth, Wind, and Fire One of These Nights - Eagles The Gambler - Kenny Rogers Born to Run - Bruce Springsteen 1976 One More from the Road - Lynyrd Skynyrd Hotel California - Eagles Songs in the Key of Life - Stevie Wonder 1977 Boston - Boston 1978 Stardust - Willie Nelson Running on Empty - Jackson Browne 52nd Street - Billy Joel 1979 The Wall - Pink Floyd Off the Wall - Michael Jackson 43

My 80’s Songs and Albums March 31, 2020

Many great bands, and singers. 60’s and 70’s.

Continued, making new music. Right into, the 80’s.

Some new artists, did arrive. They had, a lot to say.

Madonna’s edgy, driving songs. “Like a Prayer.” “Holiday.” .

And Rick Springfield’s, “Jessie’s Girl.” Prince’s, “Let’s Go Crazy.”

“The Tide is High/Call Me/Rapture.” Many styles of Blondie.

Midler’s, “Wind Beneath My Wings.” Phil’s, “In the Air Tonight.”

Starship’s, comeback ballad “Sara.” Def Leppard’s, loud “Love Bites.”

Snappy tunes, like “9 to 5.” “Dancing on the Ceiling.”

Special lyrics: “The Way We Were” and “Don’t Stop Believing.”

Wham, sang “Everything She Wants” and touching, “Careless Whisper.”

Then Michael going solo, with “Faith” and “Father Figure.”

Some very special, albums. Exploded, on the scene.

Alabama’s, “Mountain Music.” Then “Live,” by Bruce Springsteen.

Soundtracks, roared up Billboard charts. “Big Chill.” “Dirty Dancing.”

“Top Gun.” “Footloose.” “Miami Vice.” “Purple Rain.” Amazing!

U2, became superstars, with “The Joshua Tree.”

“Back in Black,” by AC/DC.” Bon Jovi’s, “New Jersey.”

Self-titled albums, trendy. “Whitney Houston,” floored me.

So did “Garth Brooks,” and “Madonna.” Loved, pop star “Tiffany.”

Raspy, baritone voicing. Seger’s, “Against the Wind.”

“Eliminator.” ZZ Top. Started, blues-rock trend.

Janet, and Michael Jackson.” Sister, and her brother.

“Rhythm Nation 1814” and of course, the “Thriller.”

60’s. 70’s. 80’s. Album covers, fading.

But the beats, words, and melodies. In my heart, still playing.

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1980 Back in Black - AC/DC Against the Wind - Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band 1981 Tattoo You - The Rolling Stones Escape - Journey 1982 Thriller - Michael Jackson Mountain Music - Alabama 1983 Eliminator - ZZ Top Sports - Huey Lewis and the News Synchronicity - The Police The Big Chill - Soundtrack (Various Artists) Madonna - Madonna 1984 Purple Rain - Prince 1984 - Van Halen Footloose - Soundtrack (Various Artists) 1985 Whitney Houston - Whitney Houston No Jacket Required - Phil Collins Miami Vice - Soundtrack (Various Artists) 1986 Live/1975-85 - Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band Top Gun - Soundtrack (Various Artists) 1987 Dirty Dancing - Soundtrack (Various Artists) Faith - George Michael Tiffany - Tiffany The Joshua Tree - U2 1988 New Jersey - Bon Jovi 1989 Garth Brooks - Garth Brooks Rhythm Nation 1814 - Janet Jackson

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My 90’s Songs and Albums April 1, 2020

The 90’s, might be summed up. Garth Brooks. Shania Twain.

These two singers, had such impact. My music focus, changed.

Country music, evolving. It was, so fresh and bold.

“Come on Over/Black Eyes, Blue Tears.” “No Fences/Thunder Rolls.”

Billy Ray, with “Some Gave All.” Twain’s, “The Woman in Me.” “Wide Open Spaces.” Dixie Chicks. Faith Hill’s, top album “Breathe.”

There came along, some new styles. “Crash,” by Dave Mathews Band.

Nirvana’s, “Nevermind” on fire. Won over, many fans.

Boy’s II Men, broke new ground with “Cooleyhighharmony.”

Sweet: “Christina Aguilera.” Hot: “Mariah Carey.”

“Yourself or Someone Like You.” Matchbox 20’s, debut.

Britney’s song, “Baby One More Time.” LeAnn Rimes’s album, “Blue.”

“Cracked Rear View.” A new approach. Hootie and the Blowfish.

“Unplugged.” MTV and Clapton. Fulfilled, a secret wish.

Dolly wrote it. Whitney sang. “I Will Always Love You.” Santana, featured Rob Thomas. Blending together, “Smooth.”

Soundtracks: “Waiting to Exhale.” “Forrest Gump.” “Pure Country.”

Celine sings, “My Heart Will Go On.” Song, big as the movie.

Surprise: “Hell Freezes Over.” Eagles, reunion treat.

Bonnie Raitt’s, “Luck of the Draw.” Winning, several Grammys.

“Wannabe,” by the Spice Girls. They pranced, and had a ball.

Beyoncé, with Destiny’s Child. “The Writing’s on the Wall.”

Sheryl Crow’s, “Run Baby Run.” “Secrets.” Toni Braxton.

“Janet.” Double album smash hit. Return, of Ms. Jackson The 90’s ends four decades. My music history.

From 1960. Forty years. It’s all, inside of me.

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1990 No Fences - Garth Brooks Mariah Carey - Mariah Carey 1991 Luck of the Draw - Bonnie Raitt Cooleyhighharmony - Boyz II Men Nevermind - Nirvana 1992 The Bodyguard - Soundtrack (Whitney Houston) Pure Country - Soundtrack (George Straight) Unplugged - Eric Clapton 1993 Janet - Janet Jackson Tuesday Night Music Club - Sheryl Crow 1994 Hell Freezes Over - Eagles Cracked Rear View - Hootie and the Blowfish Forrest Gump - Soundtrack (Various Artists) 1995 Waiting to Exhale - Soundtrack (Various Artists) 1996 Crash - Dave Matthews Band Blue - LeAnn Rimes Yourself or Someone Like You - Matchbox 20 Secrets - Toni Braxton 1997 Come on Over - Shania Twain Let’s Talk About Love - Celine Dion Spice -Spice Girls Backstreet Boys - Backstreet Boys 1998 Wide Open Spaces - Dixie Chicks 1999 Breathe - Faith Hill Christina Aguilera - Christina Aguilera The Writing’s on the Wall - Destiny’s Child Baby One More Time - Britney Spears Supernatural - Santana 47