Owl was born on October 1st, 1996 on I-5 while traveling north from LA to San Francisco, driving a 40-foot U-Haul packed with all my worldly possessions. I was escaping from LA to the green, rolling hills of Sonoma, with a dream of recording these songs, written over my life-time, and making a CD. It finally occurred to me that life keeps on perpetuating itself, and only a dramatic break from normal would ever give me a chance to realize this dream. So, knowing only two friends up north, I quit my job, packed the U-Haul to the gills and drove up the ultimate straightaway that connects those two magnetic opposites that share the same state, LA and San Francisco. Somewhere, in the dead of night, on a desolate stretch of I-5, I became Owl. 

I am not what I would call a 'spiritual' person but that night, on a lonely stretch of I-5 near Modesto, something strange occurred. Driving as fast as the truck's governor would allow, I saw a pure white owl fly down directly in front of me. The owl was determined to snatch a dead mouse from the middle of the road. Both the owl and I hesitated: The owl, determined to have its meal, took an extra second to pickup its food. I was so transfixed by the beauty of this bird that I didn't brake of even honk my horn. I felt like I was in a Spell. As the truck closed in, the owl abandoned its prey and flew up from the road. When the bird was at the same height as my windshield, it hesitated again, hovering in midair. For a moment, we looked into each other's eyes. Almost human, the owl's eyes seemed to be telling me something. After this timeless second, the white owl flew up and to the left. Then I heard a soft thump above the cab of the truck. 

With the truck's hurling mass, it may have taken over a mile to stop, and then what? Walk back to find an injured or dying bird on the side of the road? Do you kill it, and put it out of its misery? 

I kept on driving, feeling guilty and sad. Perhaps, I thought, the owl survived. But that thump was distinct, and a bird like that must be so fragile - to be struck by something as cruel as sheet metal traveling at a mile a minute. 

(A year later I told this story to a new friend who was raised on the reservations in the Dakota's. He told me that Native American lore says that when an owl looks directly into your eyes, it means only one thing - you are going to die - soon. But in this case, the owl saw that I had something to finish. The owl gave its life so that I could complete my work and record my music.)

So I kept on driving and moved into my country home in Sonoma. The next morning, something else happened. A rain passed over my new house, and as the sun came out, there was a double rainbow framing my new home. I took this to mean forgiveness for my encounter the night before, and I felt a little better. Somewhere in these first days up North, I became Owl. First, I adopted Owl as my new name. Although I  never had much use for knickknacks or collectibles, I found myself buying carved owls in stores, and even ordering porcelain owls from mail order companies.

I started recording my songs in a small studio, and after six months, several excellent producers expressed interest. I chose Jeff Wood, who has produced 25 major label CD's. The album is titled Frozen in Time: These songs were composed 15, 20, even 30 years ago. They have been waiting patiently for the right time to be recorded. And the artist will simply be called Owl: one word; one syllable; three letters. Owls are considered wise, but are also a nocturnal bird of prey - flying silently through the night - cunning, stealth and mysterious. It is in that spirit that Owl presents his music.