The Early Years
In my last post I mentioned starting to play the Clarinet, which I began in the 5th grade. Mind you, the main reason for the clarinet was that my dad had one in the house. You see, my dad was a musician, too. He played the guitar and sang, mostly with his brother Adan. Our two families spent many a weekend together at my parent’s all nighter parties where they sang and drank Miller Highlife, and the women drank watered down margaritas with table salt on the rim of their small plastic glasses. I remember all of us kid’s were all over the floors sleeping as the sun came up the next day. We had a great time and every weekend was definitely a reward for the long week of working in the fields in the summer months. Getting back to the start of my music experience, I was a fanatic at being the fastest at learning all the fingerings and scales which I knew would lead to eventually performing a song one day. I was determined to become the best clarinetist of the 5th grade, and I eventually did get to play my first song called “Hot Crossed Buns.”
My sister Cindy and I had a very imaginative and creative time together and would come up with plays. We would use bed sheets and other stuff we could find around the house for stage props and sets. We would stay in character for most of the day and really never performed them for anyone, but we had a blast creating them. Always living in the country in rural areas, she became my best friend and really a person I could share my thoughts and dreams with. She now lives in San Jose and I visit with her at least once a month. We talk about good times and the memories we made when we were kids. We love watching TV and hanging out.
My family was pretty big with 6 sisters and 2 brothers, and I am the 7th of 9. We were a bit of a small business as we all had our responsibilities with chores and we all worked every weekday during the summer in the hot Texas cotton fields. I remember seeing my dad work his magic around people and potential ranch owners were ready to hire him on the spot. We moved a lot, sometimes in the middle of the night. I will never forget the day my dad told us we were moving to California. We looked at every move as an adventure and never really complained or questioned my father’s decision to move to a new location. Come to think of it... they were all better than the last place we lived.
Needless to say, I packed up my clarinet and my few things, and we were off to “the promise land”... CALIFORNIA.