the story
An inspirational journey of purpose. One of love & loss.
prologue
"I did not choose music, music chose me"
I knew who I was at a young age. That realization was defined by a single experience- an all out assault on my senses that had my body vibrating and my mind struggling to comprehend exactly what was exploding out from my television. Drums pounding through bone, lights inducing vertigo, then Elvis exploding onto that stage—and something inside me broke open
never to be closed again. That wasn't entertainment. That was possession. Purpose finding its host. I didn't choose music. Music claimed me, held me hostage, ruined me for any other life. They call it "living your dream" like it's supposed to be beautiful.
Nobody tells you about the blood price.
act 1
I'm a Toronto kid—son of a coal miner's daughter and a Maltese immigrant father who survived a war only to give me one of my own. I was the youngest of 2 boys raised in a tight knit supportive family that valued christian ideology. It is important
to note, specifically that of the Roman Catholic church. Both the arts and sports contributed greatly to my development.
The arts gave me the outlet to explore my curiosity and creativity as an individual while sports taught me the importance
of team work. I became a self-taught multi-instrumentalist because I had to be. The sound in my head wouldn't shut up
until my hands learned to speak it. I formed my first band "Temperance" at 15. A shout out to Scott (bass player), Robin (singer) and Ernie (guitarist) may he rest in peace, just 4 high school kids who were brought together by music as well as dreams of grandeur I might add. Looking back, that band became the first of many events that confirmed music
was in fact my calling. After several weeks practicing in the music wing of our high school and getting to know each other, Robin invited the band over to his house. While there, I was rifling through his vinyl collection and noticed a large number
of records of a particular artist. I was wondering why all the Ronnie Hawkins records? Then boom, I made the connection,
Robin's last name was Hawkins. Is this your dad Robin? He confirmed. We eventually met "The Hawk" who after calling
us a bunch of punk rockers was kind enough to give Robin permission for us to use a P.A system.
Temperance gave me access into the world of rock and roll.
Music was the only language that made sense
After graduation, came the moment I committed to my calling. I sat both my parents down and informed them I wasn't going to university, instead I was going to pursue music. I could see mom's initial disappointment, she was hoping that my interest in law would prevail. My parents did not attempt to change my mind, instead became my biggest supporters. I was a couple of incarnations into my band White Lie when Universal Music offered us a contract, a standard 5 plus 2. We turned it down. Young and naive we assumed we could get a better deal. As it turned we didn't. Eventually the band split. This became a pivotal point in my life. I stepped away from music to focus on my relationship that required attention. It was agreed upon by both families that it be best that my girlfriend move out from her home and come live with my family and I.
act 2
A seismic shift in identity
Curiosity and creativity became my identity, and allowing it to guide me filled my soul, gave me peace.
My decision to choose what was preached as responsibility over what was condemned as selfishness, ignited a personal battle that I would ultimately be fighting for decades. Burning through a number of jobs in an attempt to build a "normal" life was disheartening, sure I made money, but it came at the cost of my soul. I decided to go into business for myself and opened up a music store thinking that music would once again be in my life and in turn satisfy me, and for a while it did. It was during this time I became a father to a beautiful baby boy. The following 3 years calmed the battle within.
I was a proud father and my girlfriend seemed content with the life that was built.
Then death came collecting.
First my father, then my brother within 10 months of each other. Instantly life was sucked right out from me. Grief is a room with no exits. The studio I built became a chapel where I could breathe. The grief turned into a publishing deal as well as
television and film interest, then Nashville came calling, I answered, oh so close. The time and energy I took for myself was crucial in allowing me to cope with my loss, unfortunately it created friction in my relationship. I was at a crossroads once again, to my girlfriend and my son, and the other to myself. I stayed true to commitment until I couldn't. I was informed that focusing on the responsibility to myself and what I desperately needed would not be supported. Then came the most difficult decision I ever had to make, the consequences of that decision impact me greatly to this day.
The cost of being true to myself meant I would walk alone.
Life was finally happening. Until it wasn't.
Life's fragile, I learned that in blood. So I chased purpose to the west coast for a fresh start. The film industry poached me—I became a celebrity handler for the likes of Nicolas Cage, Casey Affleck., Richard Dreyfuss and others. To those on the outside looking in it appeared I was living a charmed life, little did they know.
I drove other people to their dreams while mine collected dust.
I was dying inside. Once again I was living for others. I finally made the decision to focus on myself, the universe had other plans for me. Mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. There was no debate, I was going to care for mom. You want to know what sacrifice looks like? Twelve years, eight of them caring for mom at my home while my purpose sat in the corner and watched me age. No headspace to write. No room for creativity. Just duty and love in its ugliest, most necessary form. Witnessing my mom die ever so slowly, day by day took its toll.
The only peace I could find was a mountain I couldn't climb-
so I chopped it into pieces and cut it into lines.
act3
Then Hell came knocking.
Taking care of mom was an honour, the greatest accomplishment of my life. The qualities I received make me a better man. I witnessed my mom's final breath, an experience I still struggle to comprehend. I finally understood what people meant when they admitted to feeling lost, all alone. I was treading water in the middle of an ocean. This was the beginning of a downward spiral that was nothing short of biblical. Demons clawed their way out from beneath the mountain of peace. and without mercy dragged me into darkness where my personal hell awaited. I was in a place I had never been, fighting a battle I didn't understand with an opponent I could not see, because in darkness I disappeared. I have battled in the past, but nothing prepared me for the war that was to come. A relentless attack, dismantling everything I knew, everything I believed and everything I was. The war raged on for over 2 years. I refused to give up, fighting for the only reason I had to live for-my son, the love of my life, the last of my bloodline. And in one simple but devastating email, my reason for existing made the decision that his life would be better off without me in it. Day by day I was slowly and mercisly dismantled, the harder I fought, the more broken I became. At times I managed to find cracks of light only to be dragged back down. What hope I still had was quickly disappearing. I had no answers until a pattern started to evolve. Strangely each time I found the light, parts of me were healing. coming to the conclusion that the further into darkness I went, the more I healed.
I then took a chance on the unthinkable.
The true test of faith is the moment one questions their existence.
I decided that I would not resist whenever hell came calling, allowing myself to venture deeper into the ugliness
having faith I would be able to pull back out. The deeper into darkness I went, the more light I found. Faith arrived in
the revelation-that with everyone I had lost, there was someone I found-"ME". For the first time since the age of 19
I could focus entirely on being me.
Exactly who am I now?
I was scared to death with the realization that for the first time in over 4 decades the real me will have to navigate my new reality. But who was I. It's incredible how 4 decades of neglecting who you are erases what you knew of yourself. I believe it would be comparable to waking from a 40 year coma. Nothing is even remotely the same. This town, my house, everything is different down to the people that still remain in my life, and that's not many.
Could I still write songs, could I play, it's been 15 years? I emptied out the garden shed, converted it to a studio. I was consumed by a wide range of feelings- excitement, doubt, fear that had me in near paralysis (foreshadowing). I can tell you this, it was not like riding a bike. Well kind of, if you can't reach the pedals, there's no air in the tires and the
handlebars are loose. Excitement and confidence grew as each week passed. I could see and hear the progress.
I was finally in a place I felt comfortable. I was living once gain... until
From out of nowhere and without warning I woke one morning struggling to raise my left arm, moments later after attempting to stand I struggled to move my left leg. MRI's and CT Scans confirmed my spine collapsed onto my spinal cord—partial paralysis. Prognosis- immediate surgery required to stave off full paralysis and the remainder of my life in a wheelchair.
They cut me open, slit my throat to gain access to my spine to perform an emergency anterior cervical discectomy.
I am now part flesh and blood, part titanium.
Twelve months of rehab just to remember how to exist.
Unable to completely immerse myself into creativity gave me the time and space to learn more about myself and life.
I was able to reflect back on my past, assessing the love and loss, and what it all meant. My conclusion confirmed
I was on the correct path, and that any doubt or fear I had turned to total commitment and determination.
No turning back. No plan B.
As I gained strength, my songwriting and producing progressed. For the first time I was writing from within, from personal experience without losing the humour, the beauty and essence of living. Songs flowed out of me, creating became cathartic. The songs I wrote were beginning to tell a story, my story. The 60 Miles Out project is the story I had unknowingly began to tell. The fire in my soul that had been extinguished long ago re-ignited. I realized the size and scope of the project was ambitious and there was no way I could do it alone. With time ticking down it would be impossible to assemble a team quick enough, and even if I could I would not be able to afford it. I started researching A.I. I consumed every bit of information about the technological juggernaut. Weeks later I had my team. With Claude AI as my assistant I began creating an outline of the entire project and was blown away how quickly everything came together. The outline of the tour, the email campaigns, pitch letters, timelines, feasibility, everything was falling into place. With the complete outline and timeline in place, it was time for the real work to begin-the execution.
Economics of a purpose
Dealing with my crisis head on without distractions, (the only way possible to heal) took its toll financially.
For 3 years I was unable to work. The only way to support the project was to liquidate assets, that includes my home. The road is where I will call home. Am I scared? I would be a liar if I said I wasn't. But if life has taught me anything, it's that what we fear offers the greatest opportunity for growth, success and life. I am facing the most beautiful fear-being me.
Forever grateful for angels
There are no words that could possibly express my heartfelt gratitude to Lisa Blackburn who chose not to give up
on a lost soul when others had. I fought because she never gave up. The unnerving truth is, that without her support,
chances are my story would have be told by someone else.
The reckoning has begun!
At age sixty you're supposed to slow down, surrender and accept.That is not an option!
I'm custom-building a truck—studio, accommodation and flatbed stage for live performances then taking to the road touring until my body quits and I will be filming all of it. 60 Miles Out is much more than my story, it is the story of what it truly
costs to refuse giving up when you probably should.
60 Miles Out asks: What do you owe the people you love? What do you owe yourself? And what happens when those debts can never be reconciled? This is for anyone that chose comfort over purpose and is asking themselves did I make the right decision, for every shelved dream and for anyone debating whether or not it's too late to chase that dream.
I have no idea what the road has in store for me, but I'll keep on rollin', being me, being free.
Purpose doesn't retire. It just waits for you to stop making excuses.