It is a beautiful fall day in the Front Range of Colorado. Sitting on my back patio, I can see blue sky stretching from the plains to over the foothills of the Rockies. The giant cottonwoods in my neighborhood have turned golden yellow, and the ashes are wine red. I had a wonderful breakfast with my wife this morning in town. We strolled along Clear Creek, and lingered on a park bench musing on life's strange twists and the challenges of more youthful days. I am 65 today, and am overjoyed to be here, still kicking, still playing my banjo, and still with so much music in my heart. This is my tribute to the day, warts and all, just as life is.