I was born in Sandusky, Ohio in December of 1967. I have no memory of life on the shores of Lake Erie beyond a fuzzy image of a a small, brown, single story house on a snowy street and, maybe, another snapshot vision of looking out a frosty window down a hilly street. After moving to Missouri the next year, Kansas a couple of years after that, Oregon when I was in second grade, Seattle in my 20s and a year in Nairobi, I never thought I’d see Ohio again.

Imagine today, my surprise to find that I’ve lived in Cincinnati for the last nine years. Further imagine my shock and confusion that tomorrow I am loading up a moving truck and driving to Maryland with Julie and the kids to live with her parents. Oddly my parents and sister, after the same path I followed (Chapin with side trips to Portland and Boston, and Mom and Dad with some months in Pakistan instead of Seattle) are also now living in the D.C. area.

Throw in a few years of touring with rock bands in the middle there and, I don’t know about you, but I get an impression of a young man who has a tandency to meander. The life that has so far made the most sense to me is the one I have now. I’m a papa and I build web sites. I always knew I’d have kids, even in my drug addled days of youth. But I never thought I’d not be a rock drummer.

So that’s what it comes down to. When we get to Maryland, what do I want to make of myself? The two passions I have are music and politics. The only easily marketable skill I have is building and running Web sites. How do you screw up the courage to do the thing you love (and that you know you are really good at) but that has no salary, no health insurance, no retirement, irregular hours, and no security at all?

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

It’s a tough question.

My City Was Gone
The Pretenders

I went back to Ohio but my city was gone. There was no train station, there was no downtown.
South Howard had disappeared, all my favorite places.
My city had been pulled down, reduced to parking spaces.
Hey, ho, where?d you go, Ohio?

Well, I went back to Ohio but my family was gone.
I stood on the back porch, there was nobody home.
I was stunned and amazed, my childhood memories
slowly swirled past like the wind through the trees.
Hey, ho, where?d you go, Ohio?

I went back to Ohio but my pretty countryside
had been paved down the middle by a government that had no pride.
The farms of Ohio had been replaced by shopping malls
and Muzak filled the air from Seneca to Cuyahoga Falls.
Hey, ho, where?d you go, Ohio?

Categories: Opportunities