The Voyage

Still Chasin’ Dreams – Part 4



“Thanks, Mom”, said every musician ever.

Idealistic, perhaps, but I sincerely hope that’s true. It was certainly true for me. And there is no way I can tell you the whole story of this record without introducing you to my mom, Mary Lou. Mom was many things, but family was the center of her world, and she’d go to the ends of the earth for her kids. You know what an embarrassment parents are to teenagers, I assume? Well she reveled in that. I would be planting face palms, while my friends would be laughing like hyaenas at me … and she loved it. As I grew to adulthood, that didn’t necessarily change – she just refined her game. Even today, my friends have a LOT of ammo given to them by my mom. The point?

She was my biggest fan.

The Vox Jaguar


I played drums in my very first band, at age 11, with 2 of my cousins, who were probably 12-14ish. We practiced in our living room and I can’t even imagine how bad we must have been. Our name was “The Next Best Thing”, as in the next best thing to a real band. That seemed appropriate. Anyway, one day mom comes home and asks me if I’d like to play the organ? Organ? How uncool could you get? No way. So, she explains that she’d stopped at a music store that day and a guy had pitched her on a Vox Jaguar. Hmmm. I needed to rethink that for a second. There were a lot of stars playing that organ – the Doors, Paul Revere and the Raiders, the Beatles, the Animals (for the purists among us, they played the Vox Continental … a nuance lost on me at that moment). It had black keys for the whites, and white keys for the blacks. Pretty neat legs. I concluded that its coolness rating was sufficiently high, and I agreed.

Many years later the question hit me – what in the world was she doing in that music store in the first place? I’m guessing the times in history that a mother shopped unprompted for combo instruments for her kids would be a very short list. But she had a plan – she wanted my younger brother, Mike, to be in the band. So he jumped on the drums and I switched to the organ. And my musical path was set.


I mentioned in my last post that I was going to tell you about one of the best days of my life. This was it.

Fast forward 50 years and we’re at the end of her life. She had very serious COPD and business to take care of. Mom was a collector of various things and considered legacy to be of great human value. She wanted her great, and great-great grandchildren to know who she was. One day she told me she wanted to buy something for me that I could remember her by. I said I could always use another hat. She laughed and said that wasn’t what she had in mind, which was something “heirloom”. After explaining what she’d already done for my sibs, she asked what would make me think of her every day? The answer was simple – a guitar. She loved it.


I was immediately in contact with 5-6 of my best guitar friends and there was a very clear consensus – a Gibson J45. I called my man at Sweetwater, told him what was going on, and things started getting really fun. J45s are collectible in the first place, but the guitar he suggested was made, by hand, in Gibson’s Custom Shop. It was a limited edition, and would introduce electronics Gibson had spent years working on with Jackson Browne. It would be numbered and have a certificate of authenticity. Mom was on Dream Street. She watched Youtubes about Gibson’s Custom Shop. She watched demonstrations of the guitar. Youtubes of guitar legends playing it. She was giddy.

The guitar is one of my most treasured possessions and it does, indeed, make me think of her continually. But that day has its own place in my memory. And for good measure, I consider it the day this record really began.


I mentioned above that the oldest member of my first band was probably 14. As I also said, I’m pretty sure that we were genuinely bad … but we did play gigs. For some unknown reason, we kind of caught on as a novelty for a nearby small college and their fraternity party scene. I think they hired us and used the money they saved on party supplies. Yikes. We obviously needed someone to haul our equipment and, whether we liked it or not, someone to chaperone. That someone was my dad, Jim. I think it’s safe to say that Dad struggled with musicians, their lifestyles, and their place in culture during the 60-70s, but he was willing to drag us around. How he endured the agony remains one of the unsolved mysteries of my family’s history.

Dad was kind of a curmudgeon – in the sense that he was pretty rough around the edges, but had a big heart, and didn’t want you to know what he was really feeling. He’d grumble about “those damn hippies”, but at the same time hire fellow band members for his construction company. At one point, my entire band worked for Dad. It wasn’t until the end of his life that he told me how much he enjoyed that time. We laughed ourselves silly telling stories about that crew. And he admitted that he actually had fun hauling me, Mike, and my cousins around. He apologized for a couple of things that had bothered him for 50 years. That was a good day, too. Maybe I’ll write a song about it.

In his early 70s, Dad lost his sight to macular degeneration. His response was to become the oldest person to ever attend the Iowa School for the Blind. His age was a complete non-factor to him, no big deal. But it was amazing to all of us. By the end of his life, we had basically forgotten he was blind. I thought of his courage many times as I pondered my apprehension to move forward with this project. Countless times, really. Ultimately, I came to the same place he did instinctively – it’s no big deal. Just do it and don’t look back.

Jim and Mary Lou Prottsman

I know it’s a bit syrupy to talk about Mom and Dad. But I have no problem telling you that this wouldn’t be happening without them. Many musicians and songwriters have influenced me, but no one more than Mom and Dad. Mom cried when I sang for her. While Dad likely winced and smiled to himself. How could I not tell you about them?

Thank you for indulging me,

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  1. Lee Coppernoll on August 22, 2020 at 8:28 am

    Steve, what a lovely tribute to your folks. Write away!

    • steveprottsman on August 22, 2020 at 8:44 am

      Thanks, Lee. Condensing my thoughts is a challenge for me, normally, but it was really tough on this one haha. There are a LOT of stories to tell about these two!

    • Nancy on August 22, 2020 at 9:02 pm

      Ah miss them both much love indeed I remember you singing your momma don’t dance loved those days

      • steveprottsman on August 22, 2020 at 9:42 pm

        Yeah, I miss them too, but they still inspire me. I can’t tell you how many times I pick up my guitar just because I remember that was our deal 🙂

  2. Loren Morgan on August 22, 2020 at 10:57 am

    Beautiful hearts make life complete

    • steveprottsman on August 22, 2020 at 12:05 pm

      Very true. Loren, I’ll refrain from going into full story telling mode, but I have to tell you this. If you recall, it strained Dad’s sensibilities quite a bit (to put it mildly) when we all cut off our work jeans and made shorts – right there on the job site (that one made the family history books). Well, maybe 20 years ago, Dad comes up to help me build an addition. The first day of construction, here comes Dad in his work boots … and jogging shorts. We laughed till we cried.

  3. Kayla on August 22, 2020 at 1:36 pm

    All the hearts!! I loved reading this, some of this is new to me..keep it coming! Great picture of them too.

    • steveprottsman on August 22, 2020 at 4:25 pm

      Thank you, Kayla Marie. I will definitely keep them coming. In fact, next up is your mother 🙂

  4. Tina on August 22, 2020 at 3:38 pm

    Quite a story Steve, I think I knew you were very close to your parents, I think they would have been very proud of you, be proud of yourself for all the time you have put into this project at this time of your life. I hope you are enjoying every minute you invest in it.

    • steveprottsman on August 22, 2020 at 4:29 pm

      Thank you so much, Tina. This has been great fun, and I’m certainly trying to soak it in. Hope to see you sooner than later!

  5. Janette Cox on August 22, 2020 at 9:16 pm

    Loved your story! I am a music person, too. Will look forward to what’s ahead. Hope you do some religious music! It’s my favorite. Martha Sue was one of my buddies! Still has that sweet smile!

    • steveprottsman on August 22, 2020 at 9:44 pm

      Hi Janette. I think you’ll like my next post … it’s Martha’s turn 🙂

  6. Steve Huddleston on August 27, 2020 at 12:04 am

    Why did you not do this years ago? You seem to have found your “MOJO”. Most exellent , good luck!

    • steveprottsman on August 28, 2020 at 1:34 pm

      Thank so much, Steve.

      “Why did you not do this years ago?” That’s a good question, with a LOT of answers. Honestly, I’m still trying to figure some of that out myself. Over time, I hope to talk about that kind of thing. You might want to read the first couple of posts, where I do touch on that a bit. Thanks for reading!

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