Writing and music are integral to how I understand the universe, along with science, stewardship, and service.

My mother infused a love of poetry in me at an early age, reading W.H. Auden, Dylan Thomas, and other poets in her sonorous voice, pausing for me to inquire, “What does ‘ephemeral’ mean?” Sometimes while we waited for the school bus and occasional evenings when my father was not too drunk, Mom played folk tunes on her beautiful walnut Baldwin piano, a gift from her parents. The wood grains in the piano bench evoked a butterfly.

Though I endeavored to learn piano and to sing, my auditory cortex is not wired to sing or play instruments. I attribute this to a critical period of about 18 months when I was ~90% deaf due to enlargement of my tonsils blocking my Eustachian tubes. A tonsillectomy in 1964 restored hearing, though I’ve never been able to carry a tune or identify a key.

I am always in awe of those who can sing and make beautiful music.