One of my earliest recollections of being conscious of music is hearing my father play the accordion on Sunday afternoons. Picture a mere child of four, seeing for the first time, a monstrosity of keys, buttons and bellows, and hearing it plow (sometimes haltingly) through old, Polish folk dances, as my father contorted his face and his hands in order to strike the right notes at the right time. It was magical. . . to me.
hear my music at www.rayjozwiak.com