I was a very young music fan.  I remember my Father's telling me stories of our watching "Crunch and Des," "Sing Along with Mitch" and "The Tennessee Ernie Ford Show."  I didn't remember all the shows, but I remembered the songs, and I'd sing for him, "Oh no don't let the rain come down, my roof's got a hole in it and I might dwound. sic"

When I was 4, I graduated from cowboy songs, Prokofiev and Tchaikovsky to the Beatles.  I was confused when they got a new drummer.  On the day before they came to America, I was standing on the street corner singing Beatles songs, wearing my Beatles boots and sporting Dad's best attempt at a Beatles haircut, when a local newspaper photographer wanted Mom's permission to put my picture in the paper.

One day in the summer of 1967, Aunt Bernice drove me back and forth by the Monterey fairgrounds.  We didn't have tickets, but on the radio we'd heard rumors that the Beatles were going to appear as a surprise guest at Monterey Pops and we needed to be there.  She took us to Sears and in the bargain bin I found a 45 "A Taste of Honey," my Aunt warned me that it wasn't the recording I knew.  I imagined that Herb Alpert was a good friend of Paul's.  It was the first record I ever bought.  I loved those horns.

When I was 12, Cousin Steve, my confirmation sponsor, gave me my first LP album.  I'd never heard of Crosby, Stills and Nash.  I played it on Mom's console stereo and a new decade of music was poised to soothe my mind.  I still loved the Beatles and John and Paul's duets, but hearing these new softer harmonies gave music a new depth and dimension. 

Listening today, the music is still fantastic.  I can credit that album with shaping my musical tastes for 4 decades.  Writing this has helped me to realize how much I owe to my musical mentors growing up.  Dad's gone and so is my Godmother, Aunt Bernice.  I really, really miss them.  I'm going to give Cousin Steve a call.