I was at the First US Army Band on Fort Meade from late April of 1990 through the end of August 1992 - pretty much fulfilling my first 3-year enlistment in the Army, minus 9 weeks at Fort Dix for basic training, and 6 months at the School of Music in Littlecreek. I do love music, but sometimes I wonder about whether I care about it enough. I had an experience once that left me wondering about my involvement in music - I've always been active with it because it's just something I can do. I'm respected enough as a player that I continue to get called on to play by people I look up to, and I go out and gig and bring home a pretty decent amount of extra cash for my efforts, but at times I treat it like a job. It isn't that I'm not musical or don't play well enough - just not passionate enough. The experience I had was one night when I went out to an open mic night at this dive bar to hear a friend of mine play and sing. He was in a bit of a rut with his life, but used to play and sing in a local indie rock band when he was younger, so he was going to do this open mic thing and I went out to support him. While the folks getting up to sing might not have been polished musicians, the passion these folks put into their music was cool to see. These folks desperately loved it. I don't know if it's because they rarely get the chance to ply their craft for an audience, or if they truly have more of a love for it than I do, but they played and sang with the kind of guts that I'm not sure I ever have. Maybe it's a thing where after literally thousands and thousands of performances of one kind or another, I've taken too much of a business-like approach to it. I still love music, but I'm not sure I can remember a time where I had that kind of connection to it.