Maintain Your Trustworthiness

This is a reblog of an article written by my friend, Steve Jones. I would hope that this is something that goes without saying among data professionals like myself, but I think that it’s important enough that it’s worth repeating (and reblogging).

Voice of the DBA

Many of us that are DBAs and/or sysadmins find ourselves with privileged access to many systems. We can often read the data that’s stored in these systems, whether that’s a relational database, a NoSQL store, or even a mail system. As a result, it is incumbent upon us to be trustworthy and maintain confidentiality with privileged information.

Overall I think most of us do this, but there are always some rogue administrators out there, some of which might take malicious actions. There have been a few people that were arrested or sued for hacking into systems, trashing backups, or causing other issues. Often those are emotional outbursts that disrupt operations, and many people are aware there is an issue. However, what if people weren’t aware they were being hacked in some way?

I ran across this story about some “admin” software being sold on a hacker forum site, which was…

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Want to learn about a topic? Try writing about it

Every now and then, I’ll peruse the forums on SSC.  In addition to people answering questions about SQL Server, there also tends to be some banter, which is probably not unusual in many forums of this nature.  One of the comments I’ve seen time and again is something like, “I learn more about subjects by answering people’s comments on these forums.”

There is more truth to this statement than people realize.  In my experience in writing about technology, I often find that I end up learning about the technology about which I’m writing — sometimes to the point of becoming a subject matter expert.

Several years ago, I taught part-time at a local business school (roughly equivalent to community college level).  I taught primarily general mathematics and a few computer classes.  I was once asked to fill in for another instructor who taught statistics.  My problem: I didn’t know much about statistics.  So, I read up on it (along with the syllabus that I would be teaching that day).  I wanted to at least be able to sound like I knew what I was talking about.  As it turned out, by teaching that class, I actually learned something about it.  The students were not the only ones who got an education that day.

The other day, I began writing a draft article regarding a subject about which I’d like to learn more: BI (edit: the now-finished article can be seen here.).  I’ve dabbled in BI a little bit; I worked a previous job where I was asked to perform some data analysis (which is how I learned about cubes and pivot tables), and I took a course in decision-support systems in grad school.  I’m seeing more SQL Saturday presentations about BI; indeed, there are even SQL Saturday conferences dedicated to BI topics (usually indicated by the words “BI Edition”).  It is a topic about which I do have some interest, and it’s something about which I’d like to learn more.

My friend, Paresh Motiwala, who was one of the organizers for SQL Saturday Boston BI Edition a while back, encouraged me to apply to speak at the event.  I said to him at the time, “the only thing I know about BI is how to spell it!”  (His response: “Hey, you know how to spell SQL!”)  On hindsight, I probably should have applied; it turns out that even BI Edition conferences accept professional development topics, under which nearly all of my presentations (so far) are categorized.

So if I claim to know so little about BI, why did I decide to start writing about it?  Well, I’m trying to learn about it, and I’d like to pass along what I learn.  But, I want to place a greater emphasis on the first part of that statement: I’m trying to learn about it.  Writing about it makes me learn something about it a little more in-depth.  And by doing so, I discover that I have a better grasp of the topic.

Hopefully, relatively soon, you’ll see an article from me about BI.  Hopefully, I’ll have learned enough writing about it that you’ll be able to learn something from me.  And hopefully, I’ll have demonstrated that I’m learning something new, and improving myself in the process.

If you want to learn something new, try teaching it or writing about it.  You’ll be surprised how much you, yourself, learn in the process.

Ten Years at Redgate

Congratulations to my friend, Steve Jones, for ten years at Redgate!

Voice of the DBA

This year was my 10th anniversary of working for Redgate. The actual date was a bit ago, but they held off my celebration until I came over. These are nice at Redgate, better than at some companies where I’ve seen someone in management just give a mention during a company meeting and a token gift. At Redgate we get a really nice gift, which was a Garmin Forerunner 645 for me.

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At Redgate, the CEO comes around and does a 5-10 minute speech on the person, with some of his thoughts and memories, and also shares some stories that others in the company have sent in. There is usually a few embarrassing notes, and in my case, I got this picture, which is likely one that everyone thought would generate the most red from me. It didn’t, though I don’t think there are any really embarrassing pictures or video for…

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Suppose you gave a presentation, and nobody came?

“When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.”
— unknown

“S**t happens.”
— unknown (or Forrest Gump — take your pick)

An article by my friend, Greg Moore, reminded me of a SQL Saturday presentation that I was supposed to do in Philadelphia last year.  It was one of the first sessions that afternoon, right after the lunch break.

My total attendance for my presentation: zero.

I don’t remember how long I waited for people — anyone, really — to show up; it might have been about ten or fifteen minutes before I packed up my laptop and left the room.  I was disappointed and even a little hurt.  How is it that I drive four hours to give a presentation, and nobody shows up?  At the same time, I also tried not to take it personally.  I posted my experience to my Facebook page to get it out of my system, I pretty much said “stuff happens,” and I shrugged it off.

I found out later that a large number of attendees — I don’t know how many, but I’ll guess about half — left the conference right after lunch.

(For what it’s worth, I actually gave two presentations that day.  My morning presentation was well-attended, and went very well.)

I also did a presentation at my hometown SQL Saturday last year.  Unlike Philadelphia, people did show up — there were five people, not including myself, in the room.  But for all intents and purposes, the room might as well have been empty.

Those of you who know me or who’ve seen my presentations know that I do my best to get my audience engaged.  I’ll ask questions, I’ll ask for volunteers, and I’ll ask for feedback.  I don’t like to lecture — that is, talk at an audience.  My preferred modus operandi for teaching is to have a discussion where I act as a facilitator.  I want to make sure that I’m making my audience’s time worthwhile.

However, this was problematic at this particular presentation.  These people were the five most introverted people I’ve ever had for an audience.  They barely responded at all.  During my presentation, the only acknowledgement I saw were a few barely discernible nods.  I had to force someone to volunteer for my demo (and she did not even come to the front of the room).  Trying to get these people to respond in any way, shape, or form was like pulling teeth.  Despite asking if anyone had questions, the only questions I got was from the event photographer — who was a friend of mine — going from room to room taking pictures.  (He saw my dilemma and decided to speak up.  After my presentation, I flagged him down and said to him, where the hell were you earlier?!?)

I won’t lie.  I was very disappointed with my audience in that presentation.  There might have been five people in the audience, but for what it’s worth, I might as well have been talking to an empty room.

Greg cites an article by Catherine Wilhelmsen where she talks about a similar experience.  (Her article is a great read; go check it out!)  As it’s often been said, s**t happens.  Failures happen.  Sometimes, all you can do is take your lumps, shake it off, and move on.

(Speaking of which, check out my previous article where I talk about screwing up not necessarily being a bad thing.)

I used to teach part-time at a local business school (roughly at the community college level).  Every now and then, my students would show up late.  (That’s where I learned that the ten minute rule applied to teachers, too.)  More often than not, however, my students did eventually show up.

I often joke that if I hold a class, a presentation, or a lecture where nobody shows up, I’ll start talking to the empty room — and see if anyone notices.  Some people have told me in reply that it’s an opportunity to practice your presentation.

Sometimes, things happen that are beyond your control.  Often, your first instinct is to be disappointed and take it personally (at least I know mine is).  Whenever such an event occurs, ask yourself if you could’ve done anything differently to avert the situation.  If the answer is yes, then learn from it and remember it for the next time.  But if the answer is no, then there’s nothing you can really do.  In either case, just shrug it off, move on, and try again next time.

“I lost my job. Now what?!?”

Before any of my friends panic, no, I didn’t actually lose my job (at least not at the time of this article); this is just what I’m using for the title.

Having said that, here’s a little background for what prompted me to write this. A few weeks ago, I saw a Facebook post from a friend of mine. She was (understandably) flustered because her husband had lost his job.  I wanted to help them (and others) out, so I began jotting down my thoughts for this article.  Ironically, I had a Facebook “on this day” memory come up on the very same day that I started jotting down my notes for this article; it turned out that on that day four years ago, I was laid off from a job as well.

Losing your job is always a scary proposition. Very few people (that I know of) wants to be unemployed.  There’s a great deal of uncertainty.  Questions enter your mind; among others: “how long will I be out of work?”  “How will I pay the bills?”  “How will I get by?”

Having been there and done that, I empathize with people who find themselves jobless.  For those of you who find themselves in such a situation, here are some tidbits that helped me through these tough times.

  • Above everything else, control your emotions.  When you lose your job, your emotions run wild.  Most likely, you (understandably) get scared, depressed, angry, frustrated, and so on.  The worst thing you can do is lose control of yourself.  If you need to do so, find a safe way to blow off steam and keep your feelings in check.  It isn’t healthy to keep those emotions bottled up, but at the same time, it is absolutely critical that you keep your head on your shoulders.  Find a healthy way to get those feelings out of your system, but don’t let those feelings control you.
  • Keep a positive attitude.  It is very easy to get down on yourself when you lose a job.  Strangely, the last time I lost my job, I actually felt invigorated.  I looked at it as an opportunity.  It wasn’t so much that I’d lost my employment as much as I was being offered a chance to try something new.  I wrote a while back that a positive attitude can be a powerful thing.  Rather than dwelling in what was, focus on what might be.
  • Take advantage of your free time.  A friend of mine who’d lost his job at one point told me that he took advantage of his suddenly-acquired free time to spend time with his family, play golf, and do things he didn’t have time to do because he was at work.  While he did focus efforts on his job hunt, he also made it a point to balance his time between searching for a job and having fun — which brings me to another thought…
  • Looking for a job is a full-time job.  Back in the good-old “answering help wanted newspaper ad” days, quantity was quality (there might be some recruiters who disagree with me on this, but I digress).  I am, admittedly, old school, so a part of me still subscribes to this mindset.  There were job hunts where I averaged about ten applications a day.  There’s also doing your homework — researching companies and potential employers, sizing them (and yourself — again, more on that in a minute) up, getting addresses, making phone calls, polishing your resume and your cover letters, and so on.  That makes for a lot of time and effort, and it will tire you out.  Make the time for your job hunt endeavors — but don’t forget to balance your life as well.
  • Find something to hold you over.  No, flipping burgers isn’t sexy, but it’s a source of income.  Even minimum wage is better than, say, zero (and it might also be better than unemployment benefits, which, in my experience, usually pays squat).  There is no shame in taking a temp job to hold you over until you land on your feet again.
  • Get involved, and keep yourself busy.  Number one, it’ll get your mind off your situation.  Number two, it’s a chance for you to network (again, I’ll expand on that in a bit).  Number three, you might learn something new that would make you marketable.  For more thoughts on getting involved, check out my article on getting involved with user groups, as well as an article I wrote about using your skill set for speaking at conferences.
  • Be honest with yourself.  When I started getting down on myself about my job situation, I asked myself a few questions, including: “where do my strengths lie,” “what am I capable of doing,” and “what do I really want to do?”  I identified my own skill sets and my interests; this, in turn, helped me identify positions for which I was qualified, as well as developing my own professional persona that helped me with interview skills.
  • Be creative.  As part of my job search, as well as a tool for networking, I created business cards for myself.  However, these were no ordinary business cards.  I remembered a scene in Mr. Baseball where Tom Selleck’s character learned that Japanese businessmen networked by exchanging business cards.  He gave them his baseball card.  That got me thinking: “Business card…  baseball card…” and I put the two together.  The result is what you see in the picture below.
    raysbizcardpic
    My networking business card

    The picture is a souvenir photo I got on a trip to Cooperstown (they dressed you up in the uniform of your choice and took your picture with a stadium backdrop).  I took that photo and made it into the business card you see above.  The back side has my contact information, and inside (it’s a folded card) contains a mini-resume with my career information.  I always get great reactions from people when I hand these out; someone even once said to me, “if I was in a position to hire, I’d hire you right now just because of this card!”  People will remember you, and it makes a great conversation piece.

    You don’t have to come up with a baseball-business card (hey, my idea, darn it!), but by all means, tap into your creativity to get yourself noticed!

  • Network, network, network!  Did I mention that you should network?  These days, networking is probably the best way to find a job.  Someone who knows of a job opening can probably tell you about it long before the open position becomes public knowledge.  That extra time could very well be your foot in the door.
  • Take advantage of available resources.  In this day and age of communication, you have no excuse not to make use of social media.  LinkedIn is specifically designed for professionals, and many online resources (including and especially job-hunt and networking resources) ask if you have a LinkedIn account.  If you’re looking, you can’t afford not to have an account.  While Facebook isn’t specifically geared toward professional networking, it is still another resource you can tap.
  • Don’t limit yourself.  Would you consider moving or taking a job outside your geographic area?  Would you consider working from home?  What about a different line of work?  Would you work part-time, odd hours, or a contract position?  If you’re in a jobless situation, you may very well need to keep your options open.

These are just some of my thoughts regarding surviving a jobless situation.  Did I miss anything, or do you disagree with any of my thoughts?  Feel free to comment below.

Memories of 9/11

(Photo image courtesy of Wikipedia)

I still remember the morning of September 11, 2001 (15 years ago today) like it was yesterday.  It was an ordinary Tuesday morning.  At the time, I lived in a townhouse in Clifton Park, about 15 miles north of Albany.  I got up, showered, got dressed, kissed my then-girlfriend (now wife) good day, stopped at the local convenience store to pick up the day’s New York Times, and drove to work.

My company had an office in the World Trade Center.  Although I was based out of the Albany, NY office, I regularly made business trips to the World Trade Center roughly about once every couple of months; in fact, I had been in the World Trade Center only a couple of weeks earlier.  I had been down there often enough to become well-acquainted with the area; I knew the hotels (including a Marriott right between the two towers) where I regularly stayed on business, I knew some of the restaurants in the area, I’d become familiar with the subway lines that went in and out of the area, and I’d become accustomed to taking walks in Battery Park.  While I am a lifelong upstate New Yorker and not an actual resident of New York City, I’d been to the City often enough that, to me, it felt like a second home.

Likewise, I knew the thirtieth floor of Tower 1 — where one of our offices was located — very well.  One of our large data centers, a server room (in which I spent a lot of time when I was there), was on that floor.  I made sure our server room maps and information were up-to-date.  I had come up with a map grid system (identical to the letter-number grid combinations that you’d find on road maps) to identify and label server racks.  Whenever we added a new server rack, I’d create a label for it, record the servers within the rack, and make sure it was updated on the map.  Years later, I would eventually come up with an online system, including a SQL Server database back-end, that automated most of the data that I gathered from my regular server surveys, but in those days before automation, I had to do the work manually.  No matter.  I enjoyed working in the World Trade Center, and I always looked forward to my excursions down to the southern tip of Manhattan.  Those trips always made the mundane work worthwhile.

At first, there was nothing out of the ordinary (from my perspective, anyway) when I arrived at the office in Albany and went upstairs to my desk.  Someone told me that a plane had hit the World Trade Center.  I didn’t think anything of it at first.  My first thought was that a small single-engine Cessna had hit one of the towers.  How tragic, I thought, and I told myself to check the web for any news about it later that morning.  I dropped off my briefcase and my newspaper at my desk — again, another normal, typical morning for me — went downstairs to the cafeteria to get myself some coffee and some breakfast, and went back upstairs to my desk.

At this point, the office was abuzz.  I checked a few news websites for information.  That’s when I discovered that the plane that had hit wasn’t a small private plane; it was a Boeing 767.

I called my house immediately.  I told my girlfriend, “turn on the TV right now!”

That’s the last of what I remember clearly from that day.  The rest of the day is a blur.  While my memory of the events from that point forward is hazy, this is what I remember.

No work was done for the rest of that day.

I made my way over to the help desk area where a TV was broadcasting the news.  Other than the news broadcast, the entire area was deathly silent.  I remember one girl on the help desk was sobbing.

My manager had gone down to the City that day; he was there every week.  I remember his wife calling me.  She was understandably in hysterics.  I told her that I had not heard anything from him (the lines were all jammed from the amount of cell traffic, so no calls were getting through), and I promised that I would give her a call once I’d heard any news.

(I did see my manager later that evening; he told me that as he approached the office, a crowd was heading in the other direction.  He was there to see the towers fall.)

I remember Dan Rather broadcasting the events.  I remember the stunned silence as we all watched the towers fall.

I had heard stories from my friends and co-workers who worked in the World Trade Center.  One person was downstairs getting breakfast.  He had only moments earlier gotten out of the elevator — when flames shot out of the elevator.  Another person ignored announcements to stay where they were, and escaped down the stairwell — a decision that likely saved his life.

The next few weeks were hectic.  Our department (we were responsible for supporting the company’s server infrastructure), including employees from New York City, Harrisburg, Syracuse, and Middletown, convened in the Albany office to come up with a recovery plan.  We started with rebuilding critical domain controller servers and went from there.

All that time that I had spent in the World Trade Center documenting the servers proved to be crucial.  Based on the data we had, we were able to recreate the servers we had lost and rebuilt the infrastructure.  We obtained backup data from offsite storage — proving the value of backing up your critical data and storing it offsite — and recovered much of the data stored on the lost servers.  We worked thirteen straight days around the clock, working in shifts.  A server engineer would rebuild a server; if it wasn’t finished by the end of his or her shift, another engineer coming on-shift picked up where the previous person left off.

Everyone wanted to do their part.  I remember one of our colleagues was away on vacation when the planes hit; he was unable to return immediately because all flights were grounded.  He eventually was able to make it back to contribute to the cause.  Even my own manager had to tell me to go home and get some sleep.  He knew I wanted to do my part, but he also knew that it was important for us to get our rest so we could contribute.

I was willing to give up my extracurricular activities to help out.  I was going to skip band practice to help rebuild.  No, I was told.  If you skip things like that, the terrorists win.  Stick to your normal routine.  It’s important that we maintain morale and keep our spirits up.  We were all encouraged to work and to rest when we had to.  Employees from out-of-town were encouraged to take trips home to spend time with their families, then return to Albany to continue with the work (we set up a schedule so that everyone could do so).  Any sense of normalcy and efforts to boost morale were evident.  The company even served us breakfast during those two weeks; I remember eating a lot of pancakes, eggs, sausage, and bacon when I got into the office each morning.

After two weeks, we had rebuilt enough of the server infrastructure that we were able to maintain our business.  We weren’t at 100%, but it was enough to keep it going.

It wasn’t until later that we discovered the aftermath in regards to our company.  We lost nine employees.  Among our lost employees were a man confined to a wheelchair and his friend who wouldn’t leave his side.  Every year, on September 11, I still think about those nine co-workers that I lost.  I didn’t really know them.  (Regarding the man in the wheelchair and his friend: I vaguely remember exchanging a couple of emails with them, and I think I spoke to one of them on the phone a couple of times, but I did not know them that well.)  Nevertheless, I still consider them as I would friends or family members that I lost.

Fifteen years have passed since that fateful day.  It is important for us to remember.  We can and must always remember the lessons of 9/11.  However, it is also important for us to continue with our lives.  Not moving on would be a great disservice to everyone who lost their lives on that tragic day.

Life goes on.

What music taught me about being a professional

They say learning music improves cognitive skills, and I definitely understand the correlation.  I’ve been playing music my entire life.  Reading a score is like a computer reading a program; there are notes (that correlate to instructions), dynamics (attributes), repeats and D.S./D.C. instructions (loops), and so on.  (If you want to take the programming analogy further, you could say that each movement in a suite is either a function or an object.)

However, that is likely another article for another time.  What I want to talk about is my involvement in music, and some of the lessons learned throughout my life.  Granted, not everyone is a musician.  For the purposes of this article, I could easily replace the word “music” with “sports.”  These lessons aren’t necessarily about the science of music; rather, it’s how my experience in music shaped my life and, eventually, my professional development.   It’s about being a part of something bigger than myself, and how I’ve been able to contribute.  Many other people likely had these same experiences playing sports; it just so happens that my experience was in music instead of sports.

Anyway, for the context of this article, some personal history about my musical background is in order.  I started learning the piano when I was 7, and I picked up the clarinet when I was 8.

In my school district, second graders were offered the chance to learn an instrument, which was determined by your skill in recorder lessons.  You had your first and second choices of instruments.  The saxophone was actually my first choice; the clarinet was second.  I don’t remember why, but they wouldn’t let me take up the saxophone, so I ended up on clarinet.  As it turned out, I became pretty good at the clarinet — good enough that it provided me with opportunities later down the road.

Lesson learned: just because your first choice doesn’t work out doesn’t mean opportunity doesn’t exist.

XmasSax

I ended up learning how to play saxophone years later, when I was in high school.  I actually discovered that it was easier for a clarinetist to learn saxophone than it was for a sax player to learn clarinet.

Lesson learned: sometimes, things happen for a reason.

Like just about any typical kid, I hated to practice.  (Admittedly, I still do!)  But as time went on, I realized that the only way I was going to get better was to work on it on my own time.  So I worked at it, and got better.

Lessons learned: practice makes perfect, and preparation is everything.

As a kid growing up, my piano teacher lived next door.  To get to my lessons, all I had to do was climb over the bluestone fence that separated our properties.  Every year, we had an end-of-year recital at our local community college.  (I remember looking forward to the post-recital reception — hey, cookies! — the most.)  Every year, I felt nervous about getting on stage to perform — a feeling that lessened each year.  I suppose it was a sign of my growing confidence in something that I enjoyed and was able to do fairly well.

By my senior year in high school (and my final recital), my fellow seniors asked me to present our piano teacher with flowers as a “thank you for putting up with us everything you did.”  (I told them I wouldn’t do it unless they were on stage with me; they obliged.)

To this day, I’m not entirely sure why my fellow seniors picked me to be the spokesperson, but they saw something in me that I didn’t.  By that time, I’d gotten comfortable with performing on stage, but I felt pretty nervous when my friends appointed me to make that presentation.

Lesson learned: to be successful, you need to step out of your comfort zone.

My school’s marching band had built quite a reputation.  In 1973 (?), they were selected to perform halftime at a New York Jets game.  The Jets still played at old Shea Stadium, and the weather that day was, to put it mildly, not nice.  Despite the weather, the band took the field at halftime.  The play-by-play man said on national TV, “this is probably the bravest marching band in all of America” (or something to that effect — they actually showed halftime shows on TV back then)  In 1976, they were selected to perform at the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.  In 1980, they were featured in a commercial for Pepsi-Cola.  I remember watching that commercial as a wide-eyed kid and proclaiming, “I’m going to be in that band.”

Lesson learned: sometimes, you need a dream — or a goal.

Ray_OCS_MarchingBand

I was supposed to play clarinet in my high school band, but my freshman year, the band got a brand new set of marching bells.  Because I played the piano, I was one of the few people in the band who knew his way around a keyboard.  So guess who got the job of playing the new set of bells?  I was already getting praise for my musical prowess, but somehow, playing the bells gave me a whole new prominence with the rest of the band.  Had I stayed on clarinet, I would’ve been just another face among about a dozen other clarinet players.  I played the bells for three years before I switched back to clarinet.  But the bells gave me new experience that I was able to parlay into mallet percussion opportunities later in future groups.

Lesson learned: if an opportunity arises, jump on it.  You never know where it might lead.

I played in my high school band for four years, and ended up doing quite a bit with them.  I marched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade in 1981 (yes, I am visible in the video link; you can see me in the percussion section playing the bells at 0:22).  We performed halftime for a couple of New York Giants games.  We were in the stands for the infamous snow plow game (the Patriots would not let us on the field because of the snow; we performed The Star Spangled Banner from the stands and left the game before halftime, so we never got to see the field goal).  We played pregame for a couple of Yankee games (I remember standing in center field, playing my music, and thinking to myself, “wow, I am playing in center field in Yankee Stadium!”).

My last game as a member of my high school marching band was a Giants game.  I remember thinking that it would be the last time I’d step on a football field with a marching band.  Little did I know at the time that I would end up attending a college that had a marching band.

Ray_SUMB_Parents_Wknd

College was a whole new experience (as it usually is for any kid coming out of high school).  Here I was, a small town kid going to a large university that happened to play NCAA Division I sports.  And as is often the case of most major college football schools, the school had a marching band.

When you’re in high school, and you become really good at something, you tend to think you’re hot stuff.  You’re a big fish in a small pond.  But for me, in going to a large school like Syracuse University, the pond suddenly got a heck of a lot bigger.  Suddenly, here were a bunch of people who could do the same things that I could — sometimes, even better.  For me, however, it set the bar higher.  I was determined to do well in a band of over two hundred people.  And for four years, I felt proud to be part of that team.

Lessons learned: you get better by setting the bar higher.  Be a team player; your contributions make a difference.

Even after I graduated from Syracuse and moved to the Albany area, I continued to play my music (and I still do).  More opportunities came up.  I joined a few large ensembles.  I became an accompanist for a church.  I’ve written songs and created some demos.  I got paid to play for weddings.  I found a bar in downtown Albany where I could play for a few extra bucks.  I was asked to accompany students, instrumentalists, and show productions.  And through all these opportunities, I still continue to improve and grow as a musician, as a professional, and as a person.  I continue to enjoy what I do.  And I intend to keep playing for a long time to come.

Lessons learned: never stop doing what you love.  You’re never too old.  Share what you love with the world.

Play on!