It was one of those days when I was filled with self doubt and a lot of questions. Would life ever change? Will we ever be free to move about the world again? I was feeling stuck, bored, and unmotivated. It felt like my life was not only at a standstill, but that maybe I was even going backward in my life.
I remember meeting my Grandpa Weeks for the first time when I was around five years old. My grandparents lived in Mantua, Ohio, and my family lived in Los Angeles, so I only saw them a few times over the course of their lifetimes.
It was 1982, and I was standing in the hallway of my family’s 24-track recording studio. The beautiful hallway had a 30 foot long fabric mural with a rolling rainbow design. The walls were paneled with beautiful wood, interspersed with dozens of floor to ceiling panels of mirror which created a really cool effect in the dim studio lights
As I recall, I was about 4 years old, and my brother was 6-1/2 years old, and we were precariously perched on our kitchen stools, waving our arms excitedly as we explained to my Mom where we came from. She was the instigator of this moment, as she had just asked us, “Do you remember where you came from?”