As a child growing up in Chicago, like most kids, I loved playing outdoors. One day my brother and I and our first friend was picking up broken glass in the alley way, throwing it against the wall just to see it shatter. I reach down to pick up a piece of glass and at the same time, our friend Kiffy was stomping the same piece of glass. Blood was pouring out everywhere, and me screaming to the top of my lungs . My mother heard my cry of terror. She dropping everything, came running to my rescue. She got towels to stop the bleeding. She immediately rushed me across the street to the neighborhood clinic where the doctor stopped the bleeding and accessed the damage. He told her I needed to be seen by a specialist. So we went to the hospital to see the specialist. A few days later upon returning for a follow-up, The physicians there wanted to operate to repair the severed tendon in my fingers. My mother was met by a lady in the waiting room who pleaded with her not to let the physicians there operate. She told my mother that her son lost his fingers by the same operation. My mother's decision was not to let them operate on her four year old. They gave me therapy to get movement back in my fingers. My mother declared that day before God and man that God had a purpose for my hands.
A couple years later my Aunt Eugenia discovered I had a natural proficiency with the piano. She began teaching me the basics. After I mastered all that she could teach me, my parents enrolled me at the Joliet Conservatory of music, where I spent many years learning elementary piano. Soon,my mother became weary of me because I was not making any progress anymore, she cancelled my lessons.
After a few weeks I noticed that I wasn't taking lessons anymore, so I enquired of my mother as to what was going on. After she told me, I began to gather every piece of popular music I could find to learn.
Looking back now, I realize that it was all in the master plan of my life. As a twelve year old, everything was about music. On Sundays I played for church. In school I impressed my friends. At home, I began to write songs. When we went out to visit my parents would show me off to others. In High School it was all about music. I then begin to perfect my songwriting. Soon I found out that I could play other instruments with a little practice.
Years I spent playing the keys for others.
One day I became weary of playing because people were asking me to play without compensation for my time. I decided that I would focus on the guitar. Oh-my-goodness. I was met with so much opposition, you would think that I had killed someone. For a period in my life, people would not speak to me.
Ten years went by so fast. I began to play the keys again only with compensation. On my terms. Now one if the greatest joys in my life is to hear the songs that my eleven year old daughter writes. She has a long ways to go, but she's going to make it.
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