Uplifting Humanity with the Painstaking Dignity of Excellence

Reminder: Your job title is not an accurate description of who you are or what you do — which is a good thing because, honorifics and impressive-sounding names to the contrary, the distinction between this Vice President versus that Project Manager, compared to this Chief Development Officer versus that Chairman Emeritus — none of it means anything, and none of it amounts to anything, save a superior parking spot or a waiver from some security checkpoint.

The work you do is a different story altogether.

For, just as a sculptor is a writer by another name, whose pen is a mallet and chisel, and whose paper is a block of marble, the final product — that Hellenistic tribute to the Winged Victory of Samothrace — is an 8-feet-tall icon, the exclusive representative of an epic naval battle, a divine blessing by the Goddess of Victory unto the triumphant fleet; descending from the heavens, her right arm raised and cupped round her mouth to shout her words of exultation, as her draped garments symbolize the rippling of a strong sea breeze.

Behold her balance, and marvel at her beauty.

The sculptor is a writer, not some old man with a hammer.

Think of yourself as something greater than the print on your business card.

Think of a lawyer — imagine a defense attorney — who is a storyteller with a law degree: He paces the courtroom, and transforms his surroundings into a stage, genuflecting with the pride of a pastor and expressing himself with the power of a preacher; speaking with outrage toward injustice, while mopping his brow and milking the melodrama of this moment; pausing, to the brink of impatience, from reporters, and suspense, by the judge and jury; so we may hear the initial tremble of his voice, until it becomes a thunderous roar of authority — the chosen carrier of this Mosaic Code — who says, “Behold these Ten Commandments!”

I am a writer and a narrator too.

My medium is a guitar, and my means of communication is a microphone.

I try to convert my memories and observations into a prose poem.

I take the tenor, baritone and bass, and make each note a tale from the heart, each song a chapter from my life.

I am recording a new album — in Nashville.