How to Use Google Drive to Record With Musicians Across The Internet

This article explains how to use Google Drive (cloud computing baby) to coordinate and organize recordings (musical collaboration) with other musician across the Internet.

Remote Collaboration For Musicians

Do you have an interest in collaborating with other musicians? I talk to a lot of artist who want to do just that. This tutorial explains the collaboration process and provides instructions on how to effectively accomplish this with Google Drive. Continue Reading →

America, Root Beer, & Racism….. and grace


It’s July 3rd. Last night I went out and purchased a few bottles of a quality root beer. I chilled one to just shy of freezing and sat outside with my dogs – trying to convince Bailey, the abused pit bull that was dropped in our neighborhood a few months back, that the crack of fireworks didn’t warrant her crawling behind the washing machine or otherwise completely freaking out!

“Calm and assertive!” Continue Reading →

Thanks Dad

Myles Moran, Tina Moran, Matthew Moran at Moran Point, Grand Canyon

@ The Grand Canyon – we own it!

My father passed away this year. It’s Father’s Day and I thought I’d write something about him. I realize that sounds a bit emotionless; but I think my father would prefer that than gushing sentimentality.

Also, you always hope you can write something profound. The person and situation warrants it. I don’t believe I achieved profound, but I hope you understand a little more about my dad and something about me as well.

I’m going to give you some facts about my Dad, some thoughts about his nature and character, and then express what I am most thankful for.

Let’s call it, “The Good, The Bad, & The Ugly” – which segues nicely into….

I was raised by Dirty Harry! My closest friends, those who knew my father, understand this statement. It was his persona – quiet, confident, not prone to much emotion – either up or down – and a pragmatist. Things happen in life, you deal with them as necessary, and no need to mention it.

He collected guns and actually owned a Smith & Wesson, 44 magnum, handgun! He had a few other Smith & Wesson revolvers. He was a crack shot with those as well. Politically conservative, but didn’t talk about politics much. He and my mom cancelled each other out at the polls. ;-)

He was an enigma of sorts…. although, we all are…. aren’t we? He was Irish – raised by an alcoholic, gambling father, and by Grandma Moran – a sweet Southern lady, but also not prone to much show of emotion.

One day, I’ll have to write about Grandma’s racism and an interesting story about grace and understanding!


My dad was a provider, worked a lot – but I never heard him complain about work or mention it at all really. We never did without and actually did with much most of the time. Life was, mostly…. comfortable! In fact, he was a MUCH better provider than I have been.

Truth is, we were well beyond comfortable – although, we never really understood it. We drove around the country a couple times, flew to Canada to visit relatives often, and generally had the means to do stuff.

We went skiing every year – a week in Mammoth and owned a cabin (and for awhile 2 cabins) in Big Bear! But didn’t buy new skis, for instance, that would be wasteful. My father always went on a quest to find used skis, often from ski rentals the year prior (remember, pragmatist).

In doing this though, he often provided skis to friends and others who needed them. If he found a place selling several pairs, he’d buy the whole lot of them. It just made sense…. right?


A note about protection…. this is important people…. my father did not drink. I think I may have seen him taste wine at some point…. but really can’t recall that. His father, my grandfather, was not the nicest of guys when he drank. I don’t know this first-hand, just through stories.

We visited his mother every week or every other week – some routine schedule – again, I was young so the details are foggy. We’d load up in our Country Squire station wagon and head over the hill from Chatsworth to Santa Monica for a cholesterol-laden meal of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, etc. Southern heart attack right there – but oh, so good.

However, there is more to the story. Prior to his father passing away, these trips had a hidden routine – one that I never knew about until years later.

My father would call his mom and ask a simple question.

“Has Dad been drinking?”

If the answer was yes, we didn’t visit! Period! No fanfare, no complaints…. it just was not happening.

Then, if the answer was no, we drove over the hill, my father would park in front of his parent’s house and go in. We’d wait in the car. He would go to his father, smell his breath, and if his Dad had been drinking prior to our arrival, my father returned to the car and drove us home.

That pretty much makes him the shit! That’s badass! I know people who put up with some bad behavior for the sake of family. There is no reason to. No need to get in a tizzy over setting some boundaries…. it is just the right thing.

I respect the hell out my Dad for that. I wish I had that same strength at times. Hmmm…. I’ll work on that.

Our relationship

I don’t recall a lot of my father when I was young. I mean, he was there. I just don’t recall our interaction a lot.

There is a picture somewhere of me as a toddler. My dad crouched down with me – keeping a German Shepherd away from me. Not a dangerous Shepherd – it was –  I believe, his cousin’s dog in South Carolina. I think he was just keeping me from being licked in the face or knocked over. I vaguely recall that moment.

I did not get along with my father through most of my teen years. Around 12 years old, something happened. Nothing so egregious as abuse. But I was angry at him and let him know it.

The interaction often went something like this…

My dad: “Matt, can you bring in the trash cans?”
Me: “Fuck you!”

It’s not my proudest memory. And, to my credit, I’d still bring the trash cans in. My response was simply a necessary add-on to the conversation. My dad didn’t really argue or discuss this and I still find that odd/interesting.

My friends used to say, “Why are you such a dick to your dad…. he’s cool!” I never told them my reason. And, dear reader, I’m not telling you either. ;-)

Later, when he had his first heart attack, I didn’t go to the hospital to visit him at first. My first wife, Laura, encouraged me (berated me actually – rightfully so) to go see him.

I struggled to see Dirty Harry hooked up to machines. I remember he woke up when I was there…. looked at me….said, “Hi.” and fell back to sleep. I came undone.

Later, I can’t recall how long after, but I know that I had my two oldest children by then, I wrote him a forgiveness letter. Read “The Blessing” by Gary Smalley and John Trent to better understand why.

I apologized for my bitterness. I forgave him for what had happened – although I did not mention specifically what it was. I think he knew.

I also told him I loved him! That was a first as far as I can recall. We didn’t mention love in our family a whole lot!

I explained to him that our relationship did not need to change. That I would, in fact, be a little bit uncomfortable with that. I didn’t expect hugs or a lot of emotional words – that it would sort of freak me out. We were cool dude…. real cool!

But I explained that my kids were being raised to give and receive hugs and hear “I love you.” I told him NOT to freak out if such things were offered to him. He still did by the way – freak out – stiff as board if my kids or wives (one at a time) hugged him. Pretty comical in its sad sort of way.

Me to the kids: “Go give your grandpa a kiss goodbye.”
My dad: “They can kiss my ass if they want.”

Great dad…. perfect.

Oh…. back to that letter I wrote.

I didn’t hand the letter to him. I was too embarrassed or shy to do so. Okay…. I was scared!!! Really scared! I remember that I left it on the front door one night and drove away. What a wuss!!!! I think I half hoped the wind might blow it away somewhere!!

It was not mentioned until about a month or so later. We were at my oldest brother’s wedding, staying at a house in Oregon. Several of us were staying there and were on the back porch one morning. Suddenly, I realized that everyone had gone inside – leaving just my Dad and I. He and I had not spoken since I dropped off the letter.

Crap!!! My heart was pounding and I was sort of dizzy.

My dad was sitting in a chair reading. Without looking up he said, “Thanks for that letter.”

What do I do now!!!

I think I stammered a bit – said, “No problem,” and then quickly started talking about something else – anything else – that was happening that day.

That was close!!! My father and I almost had to discuss emotions and there was no fucking way that was going to happen!

Support and Encouragement

This is an interesting subject. My dad was into his activities. He was a pilot (we owned Cessna for a while), flew model gliders, kites, went to the gun range, made masks (later in life), wrote a few plays, took up art, etc. Model gliders being his greatest passion, I suppose.

He wasn’t that supportive of our activities as kids…. not outwardly. He didn’t show up to sporting events or performances. You weren’t going to hear him say, “You can do it.”

He also didn’t push you to try things. In fact, rather than you “can” do it, he was probably more of a you “MAY” do it and might find out that you “CAN” do it if you work at it.

And this is what I LOVE & VALUE THE MOST!

In this age where parents fawn over each and every activity their children do – OMG! Look how beautiful that smudged handprint is…. my child’s a genius! – my father was much more reserved. And by reserved, I mean, what seemed to be completely disinterested!


When you showed that you were interested in something – consistently – he would do something to encourage your continued activity.

Case and point: Music

My father was a banjo player. Not a great player! Good enough. He knew 3 or 4 chords, had an amazing booming, low voice, and played folk songs now and then.

I started playing guitar because we had one in the house and we had a Mel Bay chord book, and Pete Seegers, “How to Play the 5 String Banjo” aka, “The Red Book.”

He let me accompany him. He never showed me a chord – there were books for that. That’s sort of all you got from him. You want to learn something…. sure…. there’s a book, go to it! But he led by example in that area.

Later, after I’d progressed in my playing – some time near my 18th birthday, I woke up to notice a new guitar case in my room. It had been there the night before, but I was either tired or stoned or both and hadn’t noticed.

I opened it up to find a beautiful Guild 12-string guitar. I walked out of my room with it. My dad was sitting where you could often find him, until his death a few months ago, reading in a chair in the living room.

“Dad…. what’s this?” I asked.

His characteristic, non-emotional response was, “Your birthday and Christmas gift for the next 5 years.”

Understand…. it was neither my birthday or Christmas at the time. I think I must have thanked him. I hope so. If not, thanks Dad…. for music and allowance to try stuff. By “allowance,” I mean allowing me to try anything.


Prior to that, at 15 years old, he enrolled us in an article writing course at CSUN!

Again, no fanfare. It was NOT some father/son bonding experience. It was something he wanted to learn and he felt it made sense for me to attend as well. Pragmatic!

Allowance Beats Encouragement

My dad did not encourage me in the traditional sense. He did not fawn over my guitar playing or my writing. I can’t recall him mentioning it at all.

Although, I remember being at one of his plays at Paramount Movie Ranch. A woman from the writing group he was part of was talking with me. She said, “Oh.. you are the youngest boy. You write and you play guitar. Your father is so proud of all of you.” She was alluding to my 3 older brothers and younger sister.

Uh ma’am. We are talking about that guy there. That’s my father. I think you have him…. and me confused with other people.

Never Forget by Myles, The Mask Man

Never Forget by Myles, The Mask Man

On the other hand, he didn’t dissuade you from trying something. In fact, his example was to do stuff! Just try it! He took up art and his mask-making technique has been taught in schools and libraries. His masks have been seen by governors and presidents! His plays – which he admits were poorly written – have been performed. In fact, he often said, “Do something! Most people don’t!”

You gotta show-up, people. His plays were performed because he got them done and turned in when others – the “better” writers did not!

I value this so much! More than people might know.

He didn’t encourage by saying, “You can do it!” – he encouraged by allowing you to do it and then providing access to the means to continue to do it. And, perhaps more importantly, he got out of your way!

Given his background, his father, and the post-depression pragmatism that made up his psyche, THIS IS HUGE!!!

Do something! Most people don’t!

My dad did not believe in getting permission or needing special talent or encouragement to do anything. He believed in doing. Some of the things he did are:

  • Pilot
  • Gun enthusiast – though not a hunter
  • Scuba Diver
  • RC Glider Pilot
  • Hang gliding
  • Kite Flying
  • Banjo player
  • Artist: pen & pencil sketching, oil, water colors
  • Masks
  • Writer – plays

Pragmatics aside, there might be emotion

This happened last year. My dad was already struggling with Alzheimer’s (see below). My mom had the primary task of caring for him.

Last year, my mom had hip-replacement surgery. She’s a trooper (again, a badass!). The day prior to surgery, my mom, at 83, met her friends for a few sets of tennis. She downed some Ibuprofen and then went at it.

After surgery and a short hospital stay, my mom was released to go home. We met back at her house and my father was in the other room watching television. My mom entered the room with the assistance of a walker. My father saw her and immediately moved over on the couch to make room for her. He was obviously concerned about her. She had been caring for him and now needed care herself.

At this point, something remarkable happened. My father, Dirty Harry, asked my brother for a paper towel to wipe his head. He was adamant about getting that towel. When my brother brought it to him, I could see the real reason he wanted it.

He began dabbing his eyes as they filled with tears. It was both difficult and heart-warming to watch. Yeah…. even Dirty Harry feels something sometimes!! It’s a good memory!

Alzheimer’s is a bitch

My father had been in decline the past few years. Alzheimer’s had been robbing him of most of his memory. He had had bypass surgery, was on heart meds, and been afflicted with a couple strokes, making him unsteady on his feet.

Our family, and my father in particular, are not much for fanfare. Birthdays, anniversaries, and deaths are met with a pragmatism that is disconcerting to some.

It isn’t that we don’t feel. We do! Or that we are emotionally disconnected – well, maybe a little. But pragmatism often trumps all and dammit, there is work to do. His rapid decline and death was met with a lot of pragmatism…. an almost embarrassing level.

But…. I had time to play him a few songs.

The day before my father passed away, he was in the care facility – dying! I went to visit him and took my guitar. Sara, my youngest went with me.

He was on morphine for comfort and wasn’t going to be waking-up in any real sense.

I had not been very emotional up to this point. I stood next to his bed, swabbed his mouth, and played the first song I ever learned – a song he often played.

“You get a line, I’ll get a pole, honey
You get a line, I’ll get a pole, babe
You get a line, I’ll get a pole
We’ll go down to the crawdad hole
Honey, sugar baby, mine!”

Then I played Blowing In The Wind. A song I remember listening to my dad record on a standard tape recorder. Damn! I wish I still had that tape!!

But I was okay…. no tears, just a hope that he could hear me.

And lest anyone wish to comfort me and say, “He heard you.” – I’m too pragmatic to buy that. I think he might have but, sorry…. I don’t know that. Maybe I’ll find out after I die.

My friend Mike texted me and suggested some Gordon Lightfoot.

I played this song…. one that my Dad liked when I learned it but that he never played.

Heaven Help The Devil

“In these times of trial and uncertainty
I have thought what does this freedom mean to me
Is it just some long forgotten fantasy

Our love for each other may not be explained
We live in a world where tears must fall like rain
Most of us don’t wish to cause each other pain

We have been captured by the thieves of the night
Held for ransom if you please
Heaven help the devil may he have a few unpleasant memories”

And I lost it! I couldn’t finish it. I mean, I did…. because, dammit! If you are going to start a song, you’d better finish it. But it was tough.

I love my Dad for what he gave me! I love him for what he didn’t do for me! And I am so grateful for the pragmatics of doing something!!!

I miss him and wish I could hear him sing The Crawdad Song again!

Some Pho-King Music – pun unavoidable

We’re playing a gig on May 31st at 7pm. The name of the restaurant, “Pho-King Delicious.”


When: 7-9PM-ish
Where: Pho-King Delicous
9350 Corbin Ave, Northridge, California 91324
What: 2 bands. Jed’s Dead & The Matt Moran Band (that’s us).

Jed’s Dead is a great band we met back in 2012 and played a few shows with. They have a great sound… as do we.. so this show will be awesome! Plain and simple.

You can join the event on Facebook here.

Below is our highly-campy poster.. Guilty of pun over-use!! But we sort of like it.
Matt Moran Band and Jed's Dead in Northridge, CA


I wanna see my face on the cover

Not the cover of the Rolling Stone.. But magazine.

I’ve been featured, along with my friend, Clara Bellino, and Lunar Rogue.

Check out the magazine and article here.
matthew moran


I Want To Be Fearless Again

I originally posted this on but it makes sense to have it here. It is about writing… and performing… and parenting… and entrepreneurship… It is about overcoming fear!
overcoming fear

When writing was easy

The truth is, writing is pretty easy for me…. but I’m afraid, too.

My path to professional writer

It started out fearless!

I’ve been blessed with a gift. It’s been that way since I was young. I had teachers cultivate that in elementary school, Jr. High (Middle School), and High School.

Then, after high school, I mostly stopped writing. I allowed my time to be consumed with forwarding my career as a technologist and then my consulting…. and with my family.

I was mostly content… mostly.. and busy… very busy!

I’d done some writing as part of my career and my consulting — white papers and technical pieces. I’d also written a few poems and essays — for personal consumption and a few friends. Some of those resulted in people suggesting I write something professionally.

I must give credit where credit is due. My ex-wife suggested repeatedly that I read Stephen King’s On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. She knew how much I love his writing.

She bought it for me and put it on my desk. I put it on the shelf! It took me awhile to finally get to it… too long. I’m stubborn, lazy, etc. Whatever!

I read it and it actually changed my life. Or, perhaps more accurately, prompted me to change my life. Either way, a special thanks to her and to Mr. King.

Then, one day, while writing a note to a friend who was asking for career advice, I realized that my somewhat lengthy and attitude driven response to his questions would make an interesting and fun article.

I formalized it, sent it to a computer magazine, and two weeks later was contacted by the editor. He told me they had 3 magazines and that they loved the piece. They were dumping their lead/cover article and using mine in all three magazines. Yes!!!! Double-fist pump!!

I was paid for that article and they asked me to write a monthly column! I was a professional writer. I was an author.

From Blogger to Book

I immediately jumped into blogging, setting up my first blog at I wrote essay-type pieces, political parody, life reflections, humorous news commentary, and career advice. I wrote whatever I wanted.

Many of those pieces were funny, irreverent, and inappropriate. They were so fun to write! Tangential and weird . (Vegas Bound & My Head in a Pickle Jardon’t ask) I was completely unconcerned with who read what I wrote and their reaction to it. Agree, disagree, think I was a jerk, or weird, or funny.. it was all good.

Ultimately, my articles led to my first book deal and a relationship with a major publisher. Yay me!! (and special thanks and thoughts to my editor whom I LOVE!)

I spoke at events. I was offered additional publishing deals. I was a subject- matter expert!

And then I became fearful!!!!

It was more than my divorce and family turmoil! It was more than the flood that destroyed my home and belongings! In fact, those weren’t it at all.

It was an insidious question that entered my mind!

What if?

What if I offend someone?

What if that business organization reads my political parody or strange reflections on life and parenting or snide news story analysis, and does not want to hire me?

What if my publisher reads a piece where I say a naughty phrase like, “fuck that!” or talk about sex or respond with sarcasm to a reader or blog comment?

What if I lose readers?

Suddenly, “what if?” and what I might theoretically lose became a filter. A rather large and difficult filter to get past.

I hate that fucking filter!!! I hate how fearful I’ve become. It’s not me! It is crippling!

This past year I’ve become a little braver. I’ve become braver because I am watching a few people who help make me brave!

People who make me brave!

My oldest daughter and her blog. It seems she doesn’t give a damn what anyone thinks. In fact, all my kids are unconventional and spend much of their time giving the world the finger and passionately advocating their cause of choice. A bunch of hippy activists! I’m proud of that.

Gary Vaynerchuk

Ze Frank

And my readers, mentors, coaches, and those I coach! They tell me to write what I want to write when I want to write it. They tell me to “be real!”

But often, I’m still afraid. And that’s fucked up!

What about you?

Valentine’s Day – a song for the broken hearted

Last Friday I was chatting with someone. They challenged me to quickly write a Valentine’s Day song. And so I offer the song below.

The challenge came at about 5:45am. At 6:40 I sent them the lyrics minus the bridge. I added the bridge at lunch. I’m pretty happy with it.

I’ve included the lyrics below the video.

Valentine’s Day

Copyright © 2014 – Matthew Moran

Playing a show on Valentine’s Day
Watching the lovers throw their hard earned cash away
They can’t know what I know
That love it comes and love it surely goes

Whoa sweet music capture me
If I give it all to you, will you take it all away
I don’t need relief and I don’t need to be okay
Just help me hide the truth about love, on this Valentine’s day

She said, “I’m leaving, you’ll never change”
And I must admit she’s right cuz I still feel the same
I still believe in love and I she still haunts dreams
But somewhere along the way we forgot what forever means

Do you know what you did to me?
I can’t see straight and I can’t look away
But I’m not seeking an apology
Just a place to hide my heart… on this Valentine’s Day

The many things I don’t do well

I coach people and I do it well. I guess I am known as a bit of a hard-ass. I don’t coddle my clients and I do NOT tolerate inactivity or poor effort!

And apparently, I have a pretty strong leadership quotient. That’s a fancy way of saying that I often am asked to – or end up – leading projects and people due to force of personality and decisiveness.

However, a bi-product of dispensing with advice that is clearly in my wheelhouse – playing to my strengths – is that readers and those I coach get the impression that I do everything well; that I never feel down or depressed, anxious, fearful, lack confidence, get angry, or deal with frustration – at myself and others.

Oh people.. dear dear readers who might have ever thought that… It’s laughable but as my mom sometimes says, “I’m laughing so I don’t cry!”

Matt.. this is getting a little uncomfortable.. why are you sharing this?

Last night I was speaking to a friend who I’ve coached (and I would suggest she has coached me as well) and through that coaching has had some good breakthroughs and success. That’s awesome!! (she’s got some work to do still.. gentle nudge)

During our conversation, which had turned to coaching soccer, another thing I do well, she said, “You do a lot of things well but you should let people know that you don’t do everything well.” She knows some of my back story and suggested that it might help people to know that I struggle with some things….

Transparency alert:

I have a pretty strong sense of what I do well. However, lurking beneath all that is the stark realization of SO many things I do poorly. In fact, I am reaching out and getting coaching on a number of these items. It’s a process kids.. it’s a process! At least that is what they tell me – and God knows I tell my client’s that.

One of the facets of going through a pretty extreme adversity is a sense of guilt.. I’ll go further and say that it borders on a type of self-loathing! (thank you to those who have shared that vulnerable part of you) I give a presentation to employment support groups and others titled, “Overcoming Adversity and Revitalizing Your Career.” What I’ve discovered in this autobiographical and somewhat painfully transparent presentation is that I am not alone in feeling this way.

Recently, someone who attended the presentation sent me an email and said, “Thank you so much for letting me see that you have failed and, quite frankly, are not perfect! It made me feel normal!”

I wrote back and told them that they made me laugh out loud.. a true LOL. Perfect!!! I told her I sucked at so many things and that I often avoid them like the plague. No.. not perfect…good one… Of course, I also let them know NOT to use me as a basis for believing they are normal either!!!

I’m not seeking consolation or encouragement. Believe me when I say, my confidence borders on arrogance much of the time. And when I say it borders, it is on the “arrogant” side of that line. DON’T ENCOURAGE ME!!  :-)
Thanks, The Management

In fairness to myself, and in response to my friend last night, I pointed out that I’ve divulged some of my fear, misgivings, and sense of failure & loss in the past.. she hadn’t seen those blog entries. I submit for your (and her) approval:

Past: A personal discussion on fear and failure

Recent: I did my best and other lies

I am twice divorced, have failed at business, and have let those most dear to me down in some critical ways. In a recent blog my daughter, reflecting on 2007/2008 – the year of my first divorce, included this line… “while our father became a shell of the hero he’d been”

Let that sink in people.. that’s my daughter, which, in turn – following basic biology – makes me the father. Specifically, the father who had been (past tense) a hero! And let me tell you, becoming a shell is a drag!

I was asked by a friend who read that how it made me feel.

How do you think it makes me feel? Sad! Angry (at myself, not her)! Defeated! I would have grounded her but two problems.. 1) she’s an adult and has lived on her own since she was 18. 2) I don’t really like grounding my children, I’d rather talk to them.

But, I’m stubborn and I’m really competitive! I’m committed! I’m arrogant…er.. confident!  I’ve got some good mentors and coaches in my life. I plan to find my cape and beat my chest!

And so, the process started a few years back and continues. And it’s going well. New book, new business. Reestablished goals! Tempered with a clear understanding of how easily it, and I, can get derailed.

People, it’s not bad to take a clear assessment of what you do well and what you door poorly. And call it what it is.. I understand some want to say, “You mean things you do less well! as if saying, “less well,” will make you feel better about them. Gag!! I get what they’re saying but there are times you might need to say, “I’m awful at this,” and commit to getting the help you need.

I can handle the truth!!That’s my whole point with the above post about “you did your best.” A similar phrases that I hate is, “Everything happens for a reason.” Uhh… yeah, because I blew it! To re-purpose and alter a paraphrase from A Few Good Men, I CAN HANDLE THE TRUTH!!

The Truth and Nothing But

And there you have it, the truth! Know what is also true? I’m awesome! I really am! But only at those things I’m awesome at!

And so, to my friend I was speaking with last night… Did I do this well enough? Thanks for forcing my hand! Now you need to go write something!

EDIT: Added after posting. A song I wrote in 2008. 2AM

And back to my regular confident self!!

Thank you Pete Seeger for teaching me guitar

The Red Book by Pete SeegerMy father was a banjo player. He had a book titled, “How To Play the 5-String Banjo” by Pete Seeger. Known as “The Red Book” – even after it came out as a green and blue cover.

In that book was a page of several songs that required 3 chords.

C, F, & G7. Those who play will recognize, the 1, 4, 5 progression – basically, I was learning everything I needed to know to become a rock star!

My First Guitar

We also had a beautiful Guild classical guitar. I still have the guitar.
The Guild Classical I first played

And a Mel Bay book of chords. From the Mel Bay book of chords, I learned to tune the guitar and learned those 3 chords… The “F” chord being the most challenging even in it’s 4 string version.. Anyone remember that first bar chord?

The first song I learned was the Crawdad song (“You Get a line and I’ll get a pole, honey.”). Yesterday, when I discovered the passing of Pete Seeger, I recorded this short video tribute and thank you. Enjoy!

Find the AMAZING

One of the “Amazing!” things I was blessed to see this week.

A small lizard I caught while working in the yard. My daughter’s friend was probably more “amazed” that I was letting it bite my finger..


Apparently, I’m known for saying, “That’s Amazing!” often. Whether it is what I see in nature, in music, in business, with people, etc. There are just a lot of amazing things out there.

The image below is part of a birthday card my youngest daughter made for me several years ago. It depicts me, looking at a sunset over some mountains and exclaiming, “That’s Amazing!” It related to how I see life, people, and my clients. Click on the image to read more about being AMAZED and how it related to the coaching I do.
That's Amazing