The Mirror of Story and Music

March 2026

Growing up, my household was filled with music. My father was a classically trained pianist who played with the Seattle Symphony, and also played acustic folk guitar and banjo. My mother played organ, mandolin, and bluegrass fiddle (which is just a fancy way of saying 'flamboyant violin').

My siblings and I were all required to learn to play music. The instrument wasn't important, but the theory was. Both my brothers picked up guitar (the 'cool' kids always do) and my sister played guitar and clarinet for a time. I fell in love with the piano, but when I realized it was impossible to take the instrument hiking, sitting by the river, and tree-climbing, I settled on the flute and fell in love. What I really wanted was a piccolo (because it's pocket-sized), but evidently you need to learn to play the big version before you get to the little one... which, as a child with tiny hands, didn't seem to make much sense to me... but it is what it is. (Yes, I got my piccolo later, as an adult.)

I was introduced to classical instrumental music and opera as a tiny person. At three or four, Peter and The Wolf taught me all about the instruments that make up the orchestra through the fastest way to my heart and mind... story. I re-live the emotion of the story with tremendous joy whenever I listen to that music... and, just for the record, the version with Sir Patrick Stewart as the Narrator is by far the best I've ever heard, and I listen to it frequently when I write.

I was about five or six when I was taught to read the libretto from Handel's Messiah. Learning to follow the notes was like chasing bread crumbs through the forest. Each little dot led to an exciting new piece of the story. By nine, I memorized both the Christmas and Easter portions, finding my favorite stories inside the music. But it was never the Biblical stories that appealed to me. It was the adventure the voices enjoyed as they played through from solo to chorus, to duo or trio, and back to the chorus again.

By eleven or twelve, I discovered Mozart's Magic Flute, and even though the English lyrics didn't match the German music in quite the right way, the story found a home in my heart, and it could never be dissected from the music. I mean, come on, it's a story about a magic flute and the tenacity of love. There couldn't be a story more tailored for me.

Later, as an adult, I discovered Carl Orff's Carmina Burana, and fell madly in love with the story of the music long before I knew what the words meant. Edward Lewis (Pretty Woman) once explained it perfectly; "People's reactions to opera the first time they see it is very dramatic; they either love it or they hate it. If they love it, they will always love it. If they don't, they may learn to appreciate it, but it will never become part of their soul." For me, opera was a part of my soul from day one. It is still one of my favorite forms of storytelling; translator not required.

Folk music was also prevalent in our house when I was growing up. After all, it was the second half of the 60s. My exposure to musical stories expanded with Burl Ives, among others. If you've never heard Mr. Froggie Went A'Courtin' played on the banjo, you've missed out.

Girl Scouting brought a plethora of fun campfire songs with story as their foundation: She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain, Kookaburra, There's A Hole In The Bucket, Little Rabbit Foo Foo, Barges, and The Bear Went Over The Mountain were the best soundtrack for imagining cartoon stories in your head, while performing all the fun pantomimes, and dancing around the vibrant flames, trying hard not to drop your s'mores from all the giggling. Those stories will stick with me forever, even though the chocolate has long melted away.

Because of Peter, Paul, and Mary, Puff the Magic Dragon became a dear friend, and The Marvelous Toy made me giggle every time, imagining a new contraption with every rendition sung with my siblings and cousins. As I grew older, I understood the stories of the civil rights movement through their songbook and developed my sense of justice from their political anthems like, If I Had My Way, Blowin' In The Wind, and This Land Is Your Land. Their music also gave me a preview of life's many heartaches from Leaving On a Jet Plane; Don't Think Twice, It's All Right; and Cruel War.

As the 70s led into the 80s I discovered Simon & Garfunkeland Croby, Stills, Nash & Young and others - who my theatre friends and I heard as folk, but other kids at school considered rock - we were not the cool kids. Not even close. I mean, can you say Musical Theatre? Very nerdy music, but filled with story!

The stories from Gordon Lightfoot, Harry Chapin, and Josh White Jr. fueled my imagination as their songs brought even more stories to my ear and imagination in ways I didn't expect. Somehow, perhaps because my family had a sailboat, I found a kindred spirit with the sailors on The Edmund Fitzerald. I felt a shared grief inside the story of The Sniper; the tenacity of unrequited love in Corey's Coming; and the hilarity found in a truck sliding down a hill hauling 30,000 Pounds of Bananas. I came to believe in the power of lasting love from The Dutchman and his wife, Margaret, even when senility knocked on their door. I learned how to make it rain indoors with Sing A Rainbow, and I found myself again revisiting unrequited love with a Blue Balloon.

The point of all this rambling? I'm deaf in one ear. I've never heard the world in stereo, yet my family embraced music as a requirement to life... never concerned with how I heard it, only that I listened and actively participated with it. My siblings heard the notes, the melodies, the harmonies, the rhythms... I heard the stories more loudly, more clearly... and I still do. I probably always will.

Music and story are intrinsically entangled in my brain... one leads into the other and back again with grace and wonderment... every single time. And even though I know I am missing much of the music others hear, I know I'm hearing much of what they miss, too.

I will never be a silent writer... music will always fuel my imagination, even though - and perhaps because - I hear it differently than most of the people I've encountered. I hear differently, listen differently, imagine differently because of the impact of music in my life and the way I hear it. The music inspiring the stories I write will always be a mirror inside me that cannot be broken. The stories I write are a reflection of my life's soundtrack. I look forward to sharing that reflection with you... I hope you might feel the same.

It's Chilly Out Tonight

Well, it's chilly out tonight

The sky is filled with light

There's stories, waiting in the shadows

Seasons interchange

And it's dropping timeless names

But there's time enough

For everything that matters

I want to be with you

I want to talk with you

I hope you might feel the same

For it's warm in the cover of your presence

And the words that are often hard to say

They come pouring out in time

To soothe my troubled mind

It's so good to have so much you want to say

Good to feel so easy with the day...

~Josh White Jr; Live at The Raven Gallery