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“You’re going to college.” It was an unspoken mantra around my home and social circles growing up. So I went.
Today I look at my 17-year-old son and wonder. Should I make him go? Or let him pursue his dream of shooting videos, and being the next Jack Johnson? He’s a musician, writer, artist … a talented kid with personality to burn.
But the odds against him making it as a musician or film maker are staggering. Maybe similar to the odds of getting a first novel published at 47.
I buried my dream for thirty years because of fear. But last Friday I sat on my porch next to my amazing wife and we tore open a package from FedX. Inside was the finished version of ROOMS. For a few minutes it got quite dusty.
As a friend of mine says, “Someone has to be published, someone has to compose the hit song, someone has to build the bridge, someone has to climb the mountain. Why can’t it be you?”
So I’ll teach my kids to dream even though it’s not logical. I’ll teach them to reach for the stars even though it makes no sense. I’ll push them to go beyond their imaginations even though most people around them are content to live in the shadow lands. I might describe that attitude as faith.
I lived many years with my music still in me. If I have any influence, I will see that my sons get every chance to sing.
Now where’s that college application form?
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