I was the lone artist born into a die hard sports family. You can imagine my parents' disappointment when they realized that I am not competitive. My biggest problem was not the skills of the game - especially in baseball. I could actually really hit. I was a pretty solid third baseman, but I spent more time analyzing the shapes of the clouds than on winning. I needed something deeper than ice cream if I hit a home run. I craved deeper meaning in my life but couldn’t put that into words as a 10 year old. 

I was a big kid. I looked like I should play football, but after realizing that wasn’t going to happen, my mother forced piano lessons on me in elementary school. Best thing a parent can do! I hated piano. Instead, I played drums all through elementary and middle school. Then, something happened and it changed my life! My 8th grade music class had a mandatory guitar unit. I had never touched a guitar. This was the 1980’s, so I took the purple mimeographed music pages home that day, dug my mother’s neglected, plywood, green stamp store guitar out of a closet, and sat down to practice. A few days later I walked into music class and played the entire way through the book. The teacher asked how long I had taken lessons and I informed her that I had never touched the instrument until a few days prior. She made it obvious she didn’t believe me, but she did send me to the band director who knew more chords than she did for further instruction. After I exhausted his limited knowledge I took it upon myself to do the deepest dive into anything I had ever encountered in my 14 years on earth. This wasn’t a distraction, this was now my greatest passion!

This was before the internet and YouTube. There were no online videos teaching guitar and I didn’t want to waste my time with lessons learning “Mary Had A Little Lamb” since I craved deeper meaning. So, I joined the Lancaster County Folk Music and Fiddler’s Society at 15 years of age and fell in love with the songs and stories. It also didn't hurt that an old retired truck driver turned blues man named Moses Rascoe took me under his wing because he liked my harmonica playing. I had picked up the instrument at 12 having heard about the blues somewhere and practiced until my lips were chapped. I had one book about blues harp and a growing stack of records. Now I could learn this great music on guitar as well. I loved digging into the old blues guys' history and stories. Artists would mention their influence and I’d dig back one more generation until I got so far back it was before field recordings were made. This music made it fun, but the stories made it real. 

I started writing lots of poems around this time so it was natural to start crafting songs. It brought my interests - the blues, poems, stories - all together. My parents supported my music and even drove me all the way to Berklee College of Music where I majored in song writing. 

I planned to tour the country and had offers out of state, but I couldn’t leave Central Pennsylvania. Something called me back. The most beautiful girl in the world was there. I went home, got married, and started a job in the corporate world as an AV specialist at a huge company. What I thought could only happen once in life - finding a God given talent - happened again but this time I wasn’t interested. Video cameras were sitting around. I didn’t know how to work them and I had no interest in learning. It was a job requirement. I had to figure out how those old SVHS cameras worked. Eventually, I saw the art making and story telling potential available. I passionately dove into photography and filming head first just like learning guitar all those years before.

This new found art led to a couple decades on the road making documentaries which drastically reduced the amount of time I spent on music. I couldn’t figure out how to have deeper meaning in both my music and art and balance all life’s other responsibilities. 

My father died suddenly when I was in my 20’s. I was married with a toddler. I realized my son would never get to experience the love and wisdom of his paternal grandfather. I had all this filmmaking knowledge, but I never got the chance to tell my father’s story in a way that my children could experience it like they had known him all their lives. It happened with my mom too many years later and now it affects my grandchildren who never knew her. 

When our kids were little, we lived with my grandmother for several years and I didn’t film her stories. I don’t know why. This was a severe miss on my part. How I had access to numerous cameras and microphones and don't have those stories is one of my biggest regrets. It’s why my wife and I started Red Dirt Legacy Co. We saw the difference it makes when children see their grandparents’ mannerisms and understand who they really are. Living with my grandmother gave our kids stories, but it also gave them a better understanding of themselves. The same deeper meaning I had been missing. 

I spent most of my late 30’s and all of my 40’s on the road. I always thought a guitar would be my ticket to see the world but it was a camera instead. I've been to over 40 countries and some of them repeatedly to film and capture stories. During that time I was still able to write songs and put out a couple albums. My first solo album, Fallowtown, is full of songs written out of stories my grandmother told me. So even though I never filmed her stories, some of them live on through songs on that record. 

Over the years, I’ve tried to quit music a few times. My wife always rolls her eyes and laughs while saying, “You can’t quit a God given gift.” It almost happened due to my heavy international travel schedule a few years ago, but now, I’ve found a way back to music and art. Together. In balance.

When I'm on stage playing music I’m as much in my element as I am directing a film set. No matter what art form I’m working in, no matter who I’m interviewing or filming, no matter what song I’m singing, it all comes down to people and their stories. It is what got me jazzed about the blues as a kid and it is what gets me jazzed every time I hit record on the camera in my hand.