eighteen

Some eighteen years ago this week I moved to the fair mother city, in what was hoped to be a three-hour tour. A three-hour tour.

I was eighteen years old.

These are quite reflective times for me. And yes, I am a fairly committed person as I don’t flake about or follow whims fairly often. This staying in one place is fairly common for me.

But - half my life in the fair mother city? Damn. Who would have known?

It was 1989, the best year in my life at that time. My dad gave me a car. I was in a successful rock/pop trio in which the co-founder and I wrote all of our own music – we were the Lennon and McCartney of our school. I graduated high school. I had more girlfriends (prom dates, band banquet dates, and etc) that year then you could add up my entire life. I was moving to the fair mother city to study music. My best friend from my youth group days was already there. And hey, the *original members of YES reunited to give us Anderson, Bruford, Wakeman, and Howe. Life was good.

Of course, the blandness and inconsistencies of big city suburb life - as well as my parent’s failing marriage and my only-child status made it easy to move away. And stay away.

Then the firestorm hit. I graduated college. I turned down a scholarship to study in a masters level music composition program in Albuquerque to be with a woman I thought I would marry. We broke up a year later. I became diagnosed as a manic depressive.

Then the CEO of the universe freed me from this depressive state. And I’ve been on a journey with him ever since.

But...HALF my life in the fair mother city?!?

I guess it’s not a bad place to be.

God help me if I’m still here eighteen years from now.



* - OK, not the “original” line up from 1968, but the classic line up that brought us both Fragile and Close to the Edge in 1972. That’s what really matters.