Life is a series of time blocks neatly stacked together, creating an overall portrait of each one of us. Each of the blocks is stuffed with memories, good and bad.  For example there is all my pre-school stuff, elementary school adventures (I publicly apologize to my kindergarten classmate upon whom I puked this noxious red medicine I was taking that, upon return, was a dead-ringer for blood.  I’m sure whomever it was is now either creating splatter-gore movies or is a child psychologist), intermediate school, high school, etc etc.

During the ten years that lay on either side of the changing of the Millenium, my focus on local music was at it’s peak through inclusion with the Baldwin Boys and the band Bridge Street, followed by a spell with compadre Andy Browne Troupe/Trio/whatever (now Georgia-based Lynx Deluxe). Bridge Street, however was more than just a series of great public gigs, outrageous rehearsals and studio time, it was inclusion into the Baldwin clan, being accepted by the family and extended families as one of their own.  Musicians can be like that.  While guitarist/songwriter Bill Baldwin was the driving force of the band, brother Steve Baldwin was the lead