The ride.

When I was in my twenties, I stumbled upon an audio treasure trove: a collection of recordings featuring some of the most stirring and influential speeches delivered by twentieth-century leaders. I spent countless hours absorbing their words—Winston Churchill’s steely resolve, John F. Kennedy’s optimism, Dwight D. Eisenhower’s steady guidance, Harry Truman’s firm conviction, Neville Chamberlain’s caution, Amelia Earhart’s pioneering spirit, Lou Gehrig’s humility, Dr. Martin L

Growing up, I felt entirely at odds with Thanksgiving. Or maybe I felt that Thanksgiving was entirely at odds with its intended purpose. I’m not sure which. While adults took over the main spaces of the house on Thanksgiving, my siblings, cousins, and I were usually ushered off to the basement, the backyard, or anywhere that kept us out of the way of the adults. The dads and uncles would gather around the TV to watch unremarkable football games, while the moms and aunts spent

Holyoke, CO. May 1988. Ben, Mike, Dan, Eric, and Mark (L to R). It was the Wednesday of finals week during the second semester of my freshman year at Colorado State University, and my toughest exam was scheduled for 8:00 AM the following morning. I’d spent weeks preparing, knowing I would still be up late, cramming last-minute facts and theories onto the single 3x5 index card we were permitted to bring into Music Theory. That afternoon, while standing in choir next to my best