Skip to main content

Dare to Dream

“Its more than a feeling, when I hear that old song they used to play (more than a feeling). I begin dreaming”. . . .

Allow me to set the stage for you. Bradley University, Saturday night, 1977, Peoria, Illinois, the rock band Boston had just released their first album the previous year titled “Boston.” I wore that album out, playing it repeatedly. When Boston played that night on stage, it was magic. We were there! Musician and mechanical engineer Tom Scholz was the first to recreate the exact sound of their hit album live. We were impressed. I fell in love once again with the art of playing the guitar.

So, 40 years later, I’m playing the intro licks to Boston’s most famous song, More Than A Feeling. Sounds a little crazy at my age, but this year Santa finally brought what I’ve always wanted: an electric guitar. “Santa knows; he always knows.” It’s a beauty. A Fender Sunburst Stratocaster. Well, technically, it’s a Squire made by Fender, but who cares - it’s magnificent. And sounds great!

What brought all this to mind, you ask? When I finally decided it was time to stop dreaming and start playing, I grabbed my acoustic guitar, gathered dust in my office, delivered it to Buffalo Brothers Guitars, now defunct, replaced the strings, and adequately set up. And started teaching myself how to play. I wasn’t getting any younger.

When I think back, my first guitar was plastic. A toy, not a “real” guitar. I must have been eight or nine years old. Like most children of the 1960s, we watched cartoons; remember Quick Draw McGraw? For those not familiar, Quick Draw McGraw (El Kabong) used his guitar to battle dastardly villains by clubbing them with it. KABONG . . . he would yell. Subsequently, my guitar was used to imitate El Kabong. This broken guitar ended up in the toy box, never to be played again.

You see, this year has been about reinventing myself. What better way to start than to do something I’ve always dreamed of doing but was afraid to try. Let’s just say, musically, I’d chosen to fail. Everything I’d read kept encouraging me; dare to dream, reinvent yourself, and go back to what you loved as a child. It’s never too late to learn something new. So, I did. Every morning I began practicing. At first basic chords, man, was that tough. And rather boring. I struggled to play some Buddy Holly songs. Simple enough, three cords and a few short licks. Not so. It took me six months to develop the strength and coordination to play a G chord with consistent results. Try it sometime. I needed some inspiration.  

I would love to say it was Buddy Holly on the Ed Sullivan show on January 26, 1958, that inspired me to play the guitar, but at that time, my family and I were still living in LaRochelle, France. My first real memory of the exciting sound of the guitar was listening to the album; Please Please Me by the Beatles. I was seven years old. Oh, by the way, the first song the Beatles recorded was That’ll Be The Day, by Buddy Holly. Little did I realize how much of an influence Buddy Holly would become.

On a whim, Lori and I went to Corona, California, to visit the Fender factory. We toured the factory to witness firsthand how the famous Stratocaster, now 60 years old, was made. The visitor center displayed photos and guitars of prominent players who had played a Fender. Buddy Guy, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Dick Dale, George Harrison, Eric Clapton, and Jimi Hendrix. When you enter the factory store, immediately on your left is a life-size photo of Buddy Holly and his original 1958 Sunburst Stratocaster that he made famous on the Ed Sullivan Show. That was an exciting day for me. After the tour, we stopped in the demo room and strummed a few chords on an American Standard 60th Anniversary Stratocaster. What an incredibly light action. It was so easy to play. I’d been practicing. Maybe, someday I could play real music. 

Since our visit to Fender, I’ve practiced chords daily, studied music theory, played some Buddy Holly songs, watched live musicians play, and listened to some fantastic guitar work by Chet Atkins, Stevie Ray Vaughn, and Tommy Emmanuel. I’m retraining my brain and my fingers. It’s a high I never dreamed possible. I may never play before an audience, but the satisfaction of taking a piece of music and strumming it out on my new Fender is genuinely a dream come true.

So my reading friends, dare to dream, reinvent yourself, and return to what you loved as a child. It’s never too late to learn something new. You just might surprise yourself.

Merry Christmas to you and your family!

“I looked out this morning, and the sun was gone 
Played some music to start my day
I lost myself in a familiar song
I closed my eyes, and I slipped away”. . . Boston.

Comments

Most Popular of All Time

We Need Awe More Than Ever

In this episode, Why We Need Awe More Than Ever Yesterday morning, I slipped into the cool stillness of my backyard before dawn. The air was crisp, the silence deep—broken only by the faint rustling of leaves and the familiar calls of birds waking early. Then I looked up. A thin crescent moon hung low in the east, with Venus just above it like a shining jewel. The sky was clear and full of stars, and for a moment, I felt something I hadn’t in a long time: Awe! For thousands of years, the heavens have carried on their steady dance, untouched by human noise. No ruler, no election, no breaking news has ever changed their rhythm. And yet here I was, tempted to reach for my phone—to trade the eternal for the urgent. Instead, I stayed. I watched the moonrise, the sky slowly lighten, and the world around me stir. Ducks passed overhead in a loose V, hummingbirds zipped past to visit their feeder, pausing mid-air as if curious about me sitting so still. Little by little, the static in my mind f...

The Birth of a Cubs Legend

In this episode, The 162-Game Exhale — and the Birth of a Cubs Legend There’s a hush in the baseball world on Game 162 — a collective breath drawn in and slowly released. Scoreboards stop flipping. Dugouts empty. For six months, the game has been our steady heartbeat, pulsing from the cherry blossoms of Tokyo in March to the crisp, playoff-charged winds of late September. And now, as the regular season exhales, baseball fans everywhere pause to absorb the story we’ve just lived. For me, that story has been deeply personal. This season unfolded in the rhythms of my daily life. It was the summer soundtrack echoing beneath the constant turmoil of politics and sensational headlines. It was a handful of carefully chosen ballpark pilgrimages stitched together with countless nights in front of MLB.TV. And at the center of it all, for a lifelong Cubs fan like me, it revolved around one name — a young center fielder who turned hope into history: Pete Crow-Armstrong. The 2025 season didn’t begin...

The Silent Grid–Part Two

In this episode, The Silent Grid – Part Two Sirens split the night as Greenwood went dark. Marvin knew instantly—the blackout wasn’t an accident. It was a warning. In this quiet town, where life once unfolded at a predictable pace, a sleek, intuitive smartphone—a so-called gift from the future —has arrived. But it’s no tool for connection. It’s a silent force, erasing individuality and turning neighbors into something less than human. Marvin Gellborn, a man who values independence, sees the truth. His device isn’t helping; it’s testing him, watching him, and quietly embedding itself into the life of Greenwood. Welcome back to On the Fly . In this week’s episode of The Silent Grid , GridBot tightens its grip. After a hopeful community gathering, Marvin and his robot companion, Norman, notice a troubling absence—the very generation they hoped to reach has vanished into the neon glow of The Signal Box , a youth tech hub pulsing with digital obsession. When Greenwood’s lights vanish, Marvi...

The Pessimism Aversion Trap

In this episode, The Pessimism Aversion Trap Picture this: a room full of bright minds nodding in agreement as a bold new strategy is unveiled. The slides are polished, the vision is grand, and the future, we're told, has never looked brighter. Everyone beams—because who wants to be the one to say, "Um… this might not work"? Heaven forbid someone spoil the mood with a dose of reality. Better to smile, add a buzzword or two, and march confidently toward disaster. That's how the Pessimism Aversion Trap works. Even now, I can still hear the sound—a high-pitched shriek and a digital hum, followed by the slow, rhythmic clatter of data pouring from a 5¼-inch floppy disk. It was the late 1980s, and my makeshift home office (our living room) was dominated by what felt like a marvel of modern engineering: a used Tandy 1000 PC with not one, but two floppy drives. To top it off, we purchased a 'blisteringly fast' 300-baud modem—which, for the uninitiated, could downloa...