It was the summer of 1975 and I had just completed high school. I was wrestling with dreams bigger than I could understand. I spent my childhood in a small town full of churches, farms, and families much like my own. It was the kind of place where “It takes a village to raise a child” might have originated. Most of my friends had taken jobs with a high probability of success and longevity. The restlessness inside of me called for a different path. One evening I summoned all my courage and on trembling legs I walked out back to where my father was working and asked him for his blessing to do something with consequences neither of us could understand. “Dad” I said. “I’d like to go to college”.
My father was a musician although he would never have described himself that way. He passed on a love for music and an unspoken understanding that the arts unite diverse communities. 34 years after his passing and 49 years after his support of a kid’s dream to go to college, I’m so grateful.
Wayne 6/16/24
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