‘Music in my heart and in my head.’ Always.

Jeremy and I were descendants of ranching pioneers — Irish, Scots, English, and Italians who built sunrise to sunset, in blizzards and snow, a home in the lower Boulder Valley for themselves and generations to follow.  

We came together in Portland, Oregon, grandson and grandmother but birds of a feather. Night owls, Jeremy and I would drive up a hill to a favorite coffee shop, an all-night one. In those midnight hours, we talked over obstacles, proclaimed our free, unordinary lives, and broke into song and kind of quiet laughter in the joy of it. In our more serious moments, we built an unbreakable tether. 

Jeremy was friends with five musical buddies; they began practicing weekends and evenings, eventually garnering small gigs. Jeremy asked for Zildjian cymbals one birthday, adding depth to already an agile drummer. He easily became the rhythm master.