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My Story 
Ah, the famous bathtub scene...taken in my hometown, Washington D.C.   In this city of historic monuments and grand museums, the thing I remember most are the "lightning bugs"  and my Great Aunt Helen who was my first piano teacher.  A no-nonsense lady, she insisted I wash my little hands before touching her beloved Steinway Baby Grand.  The stuff she taught me was really boring and I decided to do my own thing because I discovered that I could pick out melodies on the piano all by myself, without music.  So there!  To this day, I still play "by ear."


My father had the itch to move to California and to get as far away from the in-laws as possible, without actually leaving the continental United States.  And, that's how our eccentric little nuclear family landed in Los Angeles.  In those days, aerospace was hot, and my father had worked for N.A.S.A. during the Sputnik and Mercury Capsule days.  My mother eventually went to school and became a registered nurse.  And I tried to adjust to big sophisticated Los Angeles.  I'm still working on that...


My Baldwin Acrosonic piano became my best friend, along with a new $19.95 Silvertone guitar, from Sears. 
I had big dreams:  Wanted to be a star, but would settle for playing music in a bar, by golly. 
"Not something 'good girls' aspire to," remarked the disenfranchised relatives back east.


So, I went off to college behind the "Redwood Curtain," at Humboldt State University, and snagged a B.A. in psychology.  While my friends went on to get bigger and better degrees, I came back to Los Angeles and went to work in a local emergency room.  On the graveyard shift.  I joke that I learned more about psychology in my first week there, than I did in four years of school.  In fact it was perfect preparation for my future work--singing in piano bars.  After three years of high drama in the E.R., very little shocks me.   But, I'm getting ahead of myself...


I went to nursing school because it seemed like a good idea at the time.  I actually made it through one whole semester before I couldn't stand it anymore.  I had reached the proverbial fork in the road.

Either I listen to my own heart, or I don't.  That simple.  And once I really listened, the choice was easy.  I dropped out of nursing school immediately.  I left my job in the E.R.   My parents freaked.  My friends freaked.   I found my first performing job in the red light district of Los Angeles, singing "Kum-baya" to drunks and drug addicts.  The prostitutes loved it.  My first night on the gig, I made $27.50 and never looked back.

That was many years ago.  I have been happily playing and singing ever since in all sorts of places and for all kinds of people.  I get paid to do something I absolutely love to do.  That makes me feel very lucky...and grateful.  Great teachers and mentors have turned me into a real professional--one who honors the craft of songwriter and performing.


I'm married to a terrific guy.  Craig teaches high school history, and our idea of a good time is going to the local coffeehouse to read our books, write in our journals and sip green tea.  Sounds boring, maybe?  Trust me...we are never bored.

Like everyone else, I've experienced dark times a-plenty.  Major illness plagued me most of my adolescence.  The tragedy of family estrangement and losing loved ones are part of my story.   I can get pretty worked up about the future and pretty bummed out about the past.  Well, that's how life goes.  Right?

But being a songwriter, I get to lather my feelings into a song and lighten the burden with a little humor.   I'm grateful for each word I sing and every note I play, and for all of you who share your time, your stories and your applause with me.