If I sit quietly, and go back to my living room in Des Moines—to the red velvet club chairs, black couch and homemade stereo cabinet, I can still hear the music that played like a score through my childhood,—Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass's "A Taste of Honey," Andy Williams's "Hawaiian Wedding Song," and numerous Firestone Christmas albums that were the score to my young life. Our living room in Iowa was always filled with music. The notes curled through the living room wh
