Steve, - I grew up in a musical family. My grandmother who palyed some obscure tunes on the pump organ. My dad, some of his brothers and a few neighbours formed a celtic/swing/country band in Cape Breton during the 1940's and 1950's. One of my uncles still plays for local dances. Dad played the fiddle every Sunday after church and I learned to chord behind him on the piano. My brother and sisters are also musical. My two sons (now 17 and 24 - sound familiar, Joe?) are learning to play. One of my fondest memories goes back to 1985 when all of Dad's surviving family got together for the last time. Two generations played in the living room Friday night from 9:pm to 5am with a repeat performance on Saturday night from 9:am to 5:pm. It didn't matter what we played, or how good or bad it was. The main rule was don't stop.

Today, I crave the opportunity to jam with my friends and do it as often as I can. Everybody is welcome to join in and it doesn't matter whether or not you can carry a tune and what the music is. All we ask is that no one monopolizes the session. My friend Garry recently sold his house, bought a fifth wheel trailer and moved to a trailer park. He invited three or four of us locals to jam with him on his new deck. By the time the evening was in full swing, we had enticed another four or five musicians out of their trailers - and it wasn't even tourist season.

Live music - there's no substitute as far as I'm concerned.