My switch was flipped by my Dad when I was three or four years old. He had a guitar and some rudimentary skill, and he had Pete Seeger's book "American Folk Songs and Ballads" or some such title (little blue songbook; used to see it everywhere). My Dad would bring out his guitar, gather me and my brothers around, and sing "The Fox" or "Tenting Tonight" or "Wabash Cannonball" or "Big Rock Candy Mountain," and we ate it up.

Eventually I latched onto the Beatles when they came around (I was five when they hit the US), and the Stones, and whoever else played an electric guitar on the Ed Sullivan show. Then I heard "Like A Rolling Stone," got seriously into Dylan, and started to backtrack to his early solo acoustic stuff. Got a guitar of my own, took lessons, became af arily accomplished classical guitarist, and played in rock and roll bands. Went in every direction I could with music, and it's been a lifelong passion.

I had some difficult years with my Dad in adolescence and early adulthood, like a lot of people do. But we became very close in more recent times, until he passed away last year. Those times when my brothers and I gathered to hear him play and sing along were a gift to all of us, and I find myself recalling them a lot these days.

Sorry if this is too sentimental a remembrance, but thanks for asking.