In the mid-1980s I was a professional musician. I lived in in the Greenwich Village section of New York City with my best friend and musical collaborator, Michael Mazzarella. Our apartment sat on Bleecker Street, just around the corner from MacDougal.
We walked on sidewalks Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, and Paul Simon had walked. We drank beer and played and socialized in bars and clubs where our heros had drunk beer and played and socialized years before.
Mine was a good life.
A career in aviation wasn’t available to me. At least that’s what I’d been led to believe. [Read more…]