My Story
Why I do what I do (so you can do what you do)…
My father was a musician who played country and western music on the guitar. He traveled the world with names like Merle Travis, Hank Thompson, Chet Atkins. A serious band leader who also loved to hoot and holler with us while he played guitar. He achieved nothing of notoriety, just a working stiff who played the fire out of his guitar among the stars of the day and loved every minute of it. He was able to stand in front of the crowds and play his heart out. Nobody knew this man other than the musicians he played with and friends and family when he went home, but he wouldn’t have traded that experience for the world.
Due to medical complications, my father was unable to continue traveling, so he became a janitor in a small town. But he never quit playing, and was always a star to us still delivering great music in our own home. Dad enjoyed an occasional visit from those musicians until they got too old to travel as well.
Johnny Teagle died at the age of 64, when I was 33, from complications of epilepsy and heart conditions, just as I was starting chiropractic school. That left a deep ache for our family. While it didn’t soften the blow, we knew of my father’s slow degrading condition and that it would most likely take him early.
But it was not the only tragedy of my dad’s legacy. The living tragedy for him was that 16 years before he died, he fell and broke his right arm. After a lengthy casting for months and no therapy, Dad’s arms, especially his fingers, began to degrade. I watched his hands and wrists swell. I saw the light go out of his eyes when he tried to play. He could still play more than most but could not bring the sweetness that he once had to his instrument. The lingering lasting effect of soft tissue injuries and adaptive processes grew until he could barely play.
He still played for us and gave it his best, but he never really recovered. I was unable to help my father in those days as I was a teenager at the time. But I often wonder what kind of difference it would made if I had been able to help him keep that spark. I don’t have a crystal ball, but playing music for Johnny Teagle was like the fountain of youth for him. When he played, he simply lit up.
We have different aches and different injuries that are a vast as the sea. But there is always a better version of us even if just one degree of freedom in that joint complex, or a little better finesse. Every small thing matters, and yes, there is always a better version of us. I think it’s a tragedy when you spend a lifetime trying to get to the very thing you’ve been trying to achieve, only to have to quit or give it up because you’re worn out.
My goal is to help others like my dad. To recover from those aches and injuries, to move well, so you can hold on to the things that touch your soul just a little longer.