I had recently moved to Los Angeles to study at a special music school there. It was a new and exciting world for me, but also one filled with more traffic than I was used to. It also seemed like I was always waiting in a big line wherever I went; the bank, grocery store, post office etc. And not to mention the air wasn’t all that great during that time period.

But to be honest about it I was cheerfully into being there and the new knowledge my schooling was bringing me. My goal was to record my first album of piano originals after I got through the program there, though I wasn’t really sure on how to go about the business aspect of my dream.

As time wore on I was getting antsy to get out of school and pursue my creative thing out in the world. I decided I would leave LA and find a place better suited to my disposition and temperament, having grown up in a much more suburban, leaning toward a country-like, environment.

It just so happened I was on the phone one evening with a long time friend of mine, Judy, who was living in Carmel, CA. I told her what was up with me and she immediately said,

“Come on up here! The air is fresh and clean and I live five minutes from the ocean. It’s beautiful; you should definitely check it out. You can also stay at my place if you’d like until you figure things out.”

Sounded great to me and after I finished school I packed up my stuff and headed north. It was all in all a great decision, and I was really ready for the peace and harmony I assumed I would find there…

One evening a few days after I arrived I was talking with Judy and mentioned to her that I really hoped some record company would want to sign me. I had been sending all of these demos out, but no interest so far…

She seemed very interested in what I was saying,

“Hmmm…” she said as she pondered. “What are you going to do if nobody responds favorably?”

“I’m not sure,” I mumbled. “That would be a really big bummer I suppose,” I added dejectedly.

“Well?” she queried me again.

“I’ll figure something out,” I answered, not wanting to think about that possibility.

“You know, I think your music is absolutely beautiful and that you shouldn’t let anything get in the way of making sure it gets out there for other people to hear!” she continued, “So what I propose is that you record and release it yourself. Heck with whoever isn’t interested. Save up some money and do it yourself! Why not? What’s stopping you?”

I sat quietly for a moment taking in what she had just said and then stood up tall and announced, “You’re right! I never looked at it that way, but you’re right on, thanks Judy!” as we both hugged and celebrated the moment like two little kids.

And so I found a higher end dining establishment to play “standards” in five nights a week while I secretly saved all the money I could for my originals and the recording studio. I was constantly at home during the day working on the material that would eventually become Tender Ritual, my first album. It did very well in the art galleries and bookstores of Northern California that I personally set up accounts with and went on from there…

To this day I consider my rendezvous with Judy one of the most fortunate things that has happened to me; truly a Four Leaf Clover.

My father was an interesting man. He was the guy, of course, who helped me shape the way I relate to the rest of life. One of the things he taught me was the importance of being kind to others.

He seemed to able to set people at ease and was often out of the way friendly toward my playmates when I was a kid. It was mentioned to me more than once, “I wish your dad was my dad!” because he treated them with respect and always seemed to have a minute or two to say hi and ask them how they were: better yet, he’d actually listen to them in a genuine way when they answered him.

One of the things I’m glad he passed on to me was his love of nature. He was very fond of the members of the animal world and would always point out when we had a visitor in the area whether it was a rabbit, squirrel, skunk, bluebird, etc. We’d even go for regular drives out hoping to catch a glimpse of a deer or two.

We became very close to each other the last half of my dad’s life. We were able to discuss all kinds of things that I wouldn’t have felt comfortable with early on while still under his roof. I guess you could say he became my best friend. I took him on several concert tours with me; he had always been so proud of me and had a great time meeting the other folks who loved my music.

One of his greatest qualities was his childlike sense that came out pretty regularly as he got older. He was very innocent in some respects. One of the last times I saw him in good health was memorable enough to really stick with me.

I happened to be visiting him in his Florida winter home from out of town and I heard him in the other room say something he’d said so many times before when I was a kid, “Hey, Jim! Come here, quick!” He was standing by the screen door looking up and smiling with that sweet innocent twinkle in his eyes, “Look over there in that tree, it’s a mockingbird! Listen to that! Wow, he sure can sing, can’t he!?”

And so I wrote Mockingbird Days soon after my father passed away in memory of him. I tried my best to capture his childlike quality and also how I imagined his spirit soaring free as he left this world far behind. It’s a very special song to me and always will be.