My brother was always ahead of the game, mentally. He was always thinking about the future. As children, we would sit around and say “what if this had that, or that had this”, then we’d experiment together. If we saw something on TV, we tried to replicate it in our own way.
We grew up in a Jazz household in Philadelphia and the weekends were full of excitement as my father and his friends would passionately argue as they listened to the latest Jazz recordings; the crackling from the needle hitting the vinyl, the haunting sounds of the bass, clear sound of the horns would pierce through the household from the console stereo set.
My brother always loved the trumpet and he kept his toy trumpet with him everywhere he went. When he was only five years old, my mother let him blow my father’s trumpet and he played a perfect note, which inspired my grandmother to send him to music school where you studied, not an instrument, but the foundations of music.
We started living with our grandparents and
