I cannot remember the exact moment that music floated into my life, which seems strange to me. Since music has so infused with my life that I cannot think of a memory without conjuring a song with the memory. I remember receiving my first portable radio and I would take that thing everywhere. It was my prized possession. My Step-Dad, Denny, gave it to me. It was his and he didn't use it anymore. (From now on, I will just refer to Denny as my Dad. I am sure at some point I will discuss my abandonment issues and my realization that what I wished for was right in front of my face the whole time. Just know that Denny is the perfect representation of what a Father should be and we will leave it at that.)
I had two 8-track tapes, Foreigner and Barbara Mandrell, I listened, sang along and pretended that I was the artist. This is one of my first musical memories. I love that portable 8-track play.
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