On May 3 1973, I came into this world with a healthy set of lungs and a shock of red hair. My parents took me home to the outskirts of Boulder, where I grew up in the foothills of the Colorado Rockies. I was christened Kevin Matthew, son of Joshua and Mary Talbot.
As a child, I took full advantage of the woods and streams around our house. My best friend, Mark, and I slew many a fearsome dragon and rescued many a damsel in distress, even though we hadn't the faintest clue why anyone would want some silly girl anyway. Under every bridge lived a troll to be dealt with and the wood sprites had some of the most fantastic celebrations you have ever seen. The forest was alive with wonder and magic.
Eventually Mark an I had to put down out wooden swords and head off to school. It was kind of scary at first, but I quickly made friends with everyone but Simon, who was a bully. We learned all sorts of wonderful things and we even got to sing. I really liked the singing. The teacher explained to me that while my enthusiasm was remarkable, I did not need to sing quite that loud.
When summer arrived, we rediscovered our trusty swords in half forgotten chests and set out into the woods, but this time there were three of us. Our new friend, Anne Marie, quickly proved to us that when fighting ogres, it is mush more useful to have a damsel guarding your back than stuck in some tower. After many glorious adventures, the leaves began to fall again and we returned to school. There were still songs to sing and stories to tell, but I was also brought face to face with a foe far more daunting than sea serpents and evil sorceress, addition tables. There was also handwriting practice which was especially difficult considering the fact that just about everyone but Anne Marie and myself were holding their pencils in the wrong hand and writing in some sort of backwards fashion.
As I school continued, I discovered a treasure more precious than pirate's loot or dragon's hordes. I had found books. The stories and tales I explored opened whole new realms of possibilities. I had always loved the stories my parents had told me, but now I could travel to far off lands and read about brave knights any time I wanted. Mark, Anne Marie, and I with the addition of two new friends, Willie and John, set out investigating the forest finding all sorts of fantastic creatures and adventures. They loved the stories as much as I, but reading did not seem to come as easily to some of them, so I told them stories of my own.
Not all of my time was spent in mythic worlds and pages. My father introduced me to the sport of baseball. At first it was frustrating, but after I learned to catch the ball, I was hooked. I joined one of the local little league teams and made a whole bunch of new friends. They started me out in the outfield, but I quickly moved to play shortstop and when it came my time to bat, I had a natural advantage, being a lefty. At the time, the kids trying their hand at pitching had a hard enough time getting it in my strike zone, much less getting fancy.
One afternoon I came home from school proudly carrying one slightly abused trumpet. I sat my mother down and blurted out one of the most horrid renditions of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" the world has ever heard. My mother did a wonderful job of keeping a straight face and told me it sounded beautiful. I stuck with it and rapidly got better, much to the pride and relief of my parents. Summers past with baseballs an bats and winters came, ushering in packs of kids rushing out into the snow in bundled in layers of heavy clothing and mittens to assault the hills and slopes with sleds and skis.
In fourth grade I served my time in hell. The teacher's name was Ms. Blackwell and as far as I was concerned, she was the personification of evil. She was incredibly strict and let it be know that her way was the only way. She clutched her curriculum book as if it was her own personal bible and lashed out and an sign of creativity. She and I spent the entire year locked in a battle of wills. Both my parents and friends were subjected to my rants and raves about this woman and the principle got to know me on a first name basis. Miraculously I survived that year and thankfully moved on the next.
Middle school brought a host of changes. Many of my old friends were scattered to different schools and I had the make a whole new set. I have always been fairly outgoing, so this proved to be relatively easy. Having a different teacher for every class seemed a little strange at first, but it did not take long to get used to it. Once I settled in, I joined the chorus. I never lost my love for singing and once I got over having my voice crack every time I tried to sing certain notes, I was very happy.
At the end of middle school, my family moved to Norfolk , Virginia so that my Dad could start up a medical practice with one of his friends from college. Freshman year was very eventful. I tried out for the high school baseball team, but I just was not good enough to make the cut. Disheartened, I sulked around school for a couple of days and then found out just how fortuitous that was. I stopped by the music department and found what I had been looking for. Mr. Kirpatrick, the music teacher, was a genius. I told him about my trumpet and he asked me to play for him. He listened carefully until I finished and then he sat there for a minute with a contemplative expression on his face. Eventually he got up without a word and went off into a back room. I sat there for a while, slightly perplexed and then I wander after him into the storage room. I found him intently searching through a group of boxes and cases until he found a certain small instrument case. He then smiled and turned to me.
"Why don't you try this."
I opened the case to find myself staring at a slightly tarnished flute. I raised my eyebrows. "But I play the trumpet."
"Just try it, " he replied.
I took the pieces out of the case and Mr. Kirpatrick showed me how to put them together. I raised the flute to my lips and he gently readjusted my hands. I took a deep breath and blew into the flute as I had seen others do in my old orchestra. I was rewarded with a raspy warbling sound. He told me to relax and blow gently across the opening. I heard the most beautifully pure tone venture into the room. Stunned I sat there for a moment and then ask, "Did I do that?" I watch him give me and amused nod. This was my instrument. This is what I wanted to play.
I spent the rest of that year studying hard and losing myself in my music. I made many friends that year. Some of those friendships ran very deep and may never fade. I also made a few enemies. One day I was late getting to class and as I walked down the halls, I heard some yelling from on of the side hallways. I turned the corner and saw a guy smack some girl across the face. I yelled at him and saw Evan Matthews turn around with a sneer on his face.
"What are you lookin' at Freshman?"
"Where I come from, we don't treat ladies that way."
"So what are you going to do about it?" he growls and comes barreling at me.
In response, I nail him in the jaw with a good uppercut. He slams me into the lockers and pounds his fist into my gut. Just about the time we really get into things, a teacher comes around the corner and hauls us down to the office. I got through the incident with a black eye and several days detention. From that point on Evan and his friends did everything they could to make my life hell.
In the following years I joined madrigals and theater and as a result, found Jason , Julie, and Scott. They loved acting and we got along great. Through them I got into acting and poetry, not to mention fantastic cast parties. I kept up with my flute and with Mr. Kirpatrick's instruction, I excelled well past anything I could play with my trumpet. Eventually I got good enough to play in the All State Orchestra. I also met Sarah. I have had lots of female friends, but with Sarah, life changed. I met her through All State. She was a violinist and a good one at that. We spent the next year almost always together. Our love burned so fiercely, it just about eclipsed everything else in my life at the time. The following summer, we had a fight that could compete with the very forces of nature. For months I held onto my pain, writing some of the blackest poetry and playing the most sorrowful melodies I have ever created. Throughout the rest of high school I had a couple brief, but intense relationships with several different girls.
Graduation came and went and I applied to several colleges for a degree in Music and English. After a very anxious wait, I got back several letters. The first couple were flat out rejections and then after what seemed to be an eternity, I got two acceptances. One of them was for William and Mary and the other was to University of Massachusetts, Amherst. I chose the latter. I liked Virginia, but I wanted to be on my own and see a little bit more of the world.
College caught me a little by surprise. I was truly out on my own for the first time. There were so many people from so many walks of life. I got involved in so many different activities and groups I barely slept. My professors threw so much theory and composition at us that it took me a while just to learn how to take it all in. One of my literature classes grabbed my attention specifically. We started delving into the myths and legends of the British Isles. I was utterly fascinated. Professor Elwin shared her enthusiasm in a way that brought back the wonder and magic of childhood. She soon became my advisor and I started working towards a specialization in Myths and Legends specifically those of Western Europe. My music began to move in the similar directions. I started researching the old ballads and songs of legend. As time went on, I developed a group of friends that became very close. We held large bonfires out away from town. People brought instruments and sometimes we would play till dawn. The music combined with the fire and the darkness felt almost primal in its ability to bring emotions and creativity. I dated several of the girls in the group and life went well for a while, but slowly I realized that I hungered for something more. I was drawn to the legends of old. I could not get them out of my head. The more I learned, the stronger the pull I felt to learn about them. I was drawn to the Isles and the call became too great to ignore. I scraped together enough money for a plane ticket and flew in to London.
I traveled though England and Wales, searching through the old ruins and forests. I soon ran out of money and scrounged just enough for a sleeping bag and a tarp. I continued traveling up into Scotland, surviving on odd jobs and busking. I went hungry for a good while until I started to learn the ways of the land and the streets. People liked my music and I traded songs for food in pubs and taverns. From Scotland I went on to Ireland. Traveling through the land made me feel alive and awoke dreams from times long past. The dreams became more vivid each time I had them. I learned of an ancient people that used to live on the very land that I travel through. Sometimes I would even remember songs that had long been forgotten. Over time the dreams blended with my waking hours. I felt like I was so close to what I sought. One evening around twilight, I was walking through a section of forest where the trees seemed older and the air nearly sang with energy. I pulled out my flute and began to play. The notes of old wandered through the trees and then the music got louder and splintered into many different harmonies all guided by the notes I played. These notes had not been heard for hundreds of years and I realized that I was not the only one playing. I stepped into a clearing in the trees to find a fire blazing and a host of musicians and singers positioned around it and I felt an overwhelming feeling of welcome...
Last modified: Wed Apr 30 09:27:00 1997 by tabrady