Music & The Big Apple

I listen to the multitudinous tracks on my computer and realize I know almost all the words to all of them. And that leads me to wonder what would have happened to me those many years ago if I’d stayed in New York and pursued the Broadway dream. I might have kept at the vocal lessons, might have finally found someone who could do something about getting any of my songs recorded, stuck with the private detective bit and learned how to tail people on the streets of New York. Would I have made the rounds of theaters trying out for some bit part? I doubt it. I was still a South Dakota bumpkin who was so out of place in the big city that I never made it up the Empire State Building or took in the glories of the Metropolitan Museum or even walked through Central Park. Never took the Brooklyn Ferry like Whitman. Just had to hurry home to South Dakota to golf and go back to school. Life is peculiar in all the possibilities and avenues we might pursue. I often think about the music I love and how much I wish I’d stayed with it in New York. Or how I regret not having learned to play the piano in my youth. I may not have ever been a great piano player/singer in some bar or lounge, but I’d have been more than adequate. Maybe in my next life.