On the “Lessons” page, I mentioned—half-jokingly—that the reason for taking lessons at this stage of life is to figure out what went wrong during my career. For decades, playing with confidence and achieving a degree of success made it easy to laugh about the idea with friends and band mates. But the truth runs much deeper than a simple joke.
There was always a sense of missing something vital—an ingredient that could elevate a drummer from being decent to truly exceptional. While others may not have noticed, I did. There was a gap, a feeling that the language of this instrument wasn’t being fully mastered. The rhythms spoke, but not fluently—not on an advanced level. Lessons became a way to uncover what was missing before it was too late.
On a deeper level, this journey is about gratitude. The raw talent to “fake it” for so long wasn’t of my own making. It was a gift, and learning the true extent of that gift became a responsibility. Honoring it properly meant devoting the time and focus it deserved—something I didn’t do earlier in life.
Now, this part stings a little, but it needs to be said—just once. I could have been a great drummer. There’s no telling the heights that might have been reached if my instrument had been approached with the devotion it deserved from the beginning. Timing and an instinctive understanding of the drums came as a gift, a profound foundation that allowed me to do what I did without the structured learning to match. But that talent wasn’t honored the way it should have been.
Later in life, like many others, the realization struck: there was no reason not to take lessons. But above that practical realization was something far greater—the opportunity to finally honor the One who gave me this gift. To say, with sincerity, thank you, Father. Thank you for the incredible gift of music and the ability to express it. As an act of gratitude, this stage of life is now devoted to learning and appreciating what has been given—and to finally taking lessons.
Yes, the thought crosses my mind: If only I had started at 8 instead of 58. But those words don’t need repeating. No regrets. Only lessons to be learned and efforts to be made—before it’s too late.
~Mike
May God bless you like He has me. Seek Him. Look for His blessings. They’re in your life. They ARE your life.