I began learning guitar at age eight, and by fourteen was writing and recording my own songs on four-track cassette. At twenty-one I would have said without hesitation that there was nothing I valued more than making music.

But the world throws obstacles in our path, and responsibilities pile up. The aspiration to perform began to seem shamefully childish, and I started to think that without such a burden life could be so much simpler and less painful. To dismantle a passion that had borne so little fruit was simply good sense.

Well... no. Not really.

There followed a cycle of doubt and inertia, punctuated with intensity that faded quickly to leave emptiness in its place. I passed into my third decade, then my fourth, and then fifth. And only now, looking back on the passing of more than a half-century in this life, only now do I see that I've had it wrong all this time. That passion was my truth, and deserved better than to be dismissed and disavowed.

I owe a great debt to my younger self, whose painfully sincere devotion to music kept that spark alive. To honor that debt, I will honor the spark itself.

I will stop quitting.