Remembering To Forget

 I have lived in the Connecticut River Valley for most of my life. With the exception of  a 15 year period spent constantly moving around the Boston area, it was my hope to return to more familiar lands. 

After my parents passed away, I decided to remain, because I made so many friends, and my livlihood as an artist and musician was rooted along the very same roads I had my first experiences on. Many of the clubs from those days had closed, but new ones always popped up as a replacement, so I gradually learned to gradually forget the old ones. There were a couple of small watering holes that had live music - one was in Holyoke and the other in Florence. At the former, I would co-run an open mic event and play the Blues all night (often drowning my sorrows in whiskey) until 2AM. 

It was a good place for me to be when I was feeling bad.

 The latter was a nearby brewery where I would often play original songs at an acoustic open mic event. It was there that I would soon meet a vocalist who would eventually become more than just a singing partner.

 I started feeling better

I slowly started to forget the sad times, and began enjoying my life again. My life was now very different. I had new adult responsibilities, as there were two children I helped to look after. Something that would have been a non-starter in my former relationship was now a task I was willing and able to handle (and even enjoy) in this one. 

The Covid shutdown forced many people to look inward, and for some there is sadness, anger and frustration. For me, there is a touch of sadness that my parents are no longer around to see what my life looks like now. Somehow, I think they would understand, as I have created lots of wonderful musical memories, and traveled to share such wonders in the Northeast Kingdom Where these stories began.

 And so I embrace the good times, and new opportunities that are on the road ahead of me.

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