As a young child, my mother heard something special whenever I had the opportunity to touch a piano and convinced our church pianist to take me as a student at the age of five. My profound hearing loss created lots of challenges for her, and my subsequent teachers, for the next ten years. No matter my love for piano, as I struggled to keep regular timing and rhythm, it became increasingly clear that I was not going to be joining any bands or playing traditional classical music to great acclaim. So I decided to stop taking piano lessons and instead focus on my burgeoning Junior ROTC career in the hopes of turning that into a paid college education.

I continued to play occasionally and through the bitter disappointment of finding out that my hearing loss was below the standard for which the military would grant a waiver. It was difficult when I headed off to university without my cherished 500 pound upright as it had been my steady friend throughout my formative years. However, at school I found practice rooms buried in the basement of the Memorial Student Center with pretty nice pianos available for "check out" in hour-long increments. I played when I could, between classes and working to put myself through school. Not long after graduation, a very nice position in the federal archives field opened up for me and I felt that I "had arrived" after all the hard work to find a path through education to a livelihood and possibly a career.

After a period of time, I was notified that I was the proud recipient of an inheritance from my grandmother - my great-grandmother's 300 pound upright piano which was built sometime in the early 1920's. I travelled half-way across the country to pick it up and bring it home, working with my crazy great uncle and my oldest uncle to coordinate dates for pick up and movers and managed to avoid ruining the ancient septic system along the way.

Unfortunately, my crazy great uncle's proclivity to save money meant that the piano had spent a lot of time in the part of the farmhouse that was not climate controlled, and no amount of cajoling from my professional tuner could bring it back to good health. I played it anyway; the aromas from playing it would remind me of fun childhood trips and hilarious family stories.

When I relocated to the Washington, D.C., area, my piano came with me to my small condominium, which was purposely selected for having an interior wall to accommodate it. After accidently discovering that it could be heard all the way down to the elevator bank when I played as softly as possible, it was time for an electronic keyboard. I was highly skeptical. After all, I grew up playing a piano with the stiffest action I've ever touched, as well as having an enormous soundboard producing amazing feel and sound. I was hesitant at first, but longed to play regularly and finally came around to the idea potentially having merit. The church I was attending invited me to sit down and play their professional pianists touring/recording keyboard which was used in general services. As I played for contemplative times or before services, I began to develop an appreciation for the potential that a keyboard like that one offered. I shopped around and eventually decided on the Roland FP-7 and these albums are recorded on that keyboard. Although nothing can ever really compare to feeling the keys on a piano, upon which you can feel the reverberations of a large soundboard, it is my hope that you will enjoy these all-original compositions offering of reflections and the importance of musical connections.