Fast forward some years later, and I was on my own with a three-year old in tow. I'd left Paul and was living in Albany again. One evening, I called a friend to see if she would like to come over to jam. She said she would love to but had a friend coming over. He was also a musician, so she asked if she could bring him along. When you're jamming, the more the merrier, so of course I said yes. Surprisingly, it was Dick Kavanaugh, and the rest is history. The attraction had not waned, and we got together quickly as I was never much for hesitating. Though the similar names were awkward at times and raised some eyebrows, we soon took advantage and started performing as "Cavanaugh & Kavanaugh".
We started out playing music together for fun, and eventually performed together. Before I left Paul, I wasn't playing string instruments but knew I needed to learn guitar if I wanted to be able to perform on my own. I was just beginning when Dick came on the scene. He loved playing fiddle and wanted me to back him up. I learned to play guitar by accompanying his Irish and Old Time fiddle tunes. He didn't slow down for me, so it pushed me to keep up. Having been a musician my whole life, I learned quickly. A few years later, he handed me a mandolin during a road trip and asked me to play and sing for him. The mandolin was small enough to be in my lap in the front seat of the car, but I had never touched one before. "Just figure it out," he said. "You're smart." He told me what the strings were and, using my knowledge of music theory, I figured out a few chords. Soon, I was playing songs. Then he brought home a mountain dulcimer, and I learned that next.
I was doing shows pretty regularly now with a variety of instruments but didn't feel very confident and was still plagued with stage fright. I could always sing with confidence but couldn't talk to an audience. I was brutally shy, especially onstage and always had been. One night, we were playing a show to a full house in Schenectady. He turned to me and, into the microphone, asked me a question. I panicked. I could feel the sweat pouring down my back as I struggled to get out any sound at all. He kept looking me in the eyes and smiling until the rest of the room disappeared and I was able to answer him. Later I told him how furious I was at him for putting me on the spot like that. He listened, letting me vent, then chuckled and insisted that it had worked. I got through it unscathed and was quite eloquent. After that it got easier and easier. Many people remarked on how much they enjoyed our banter with each other and the audience. They said they felt as though they were sitting in our living room. Now, I work a crowd with ease, immensely enjoying telling my stories.
Although we didn't last as a couple, I am very grateful for all that he taught me. I now play multiple instruments and am a true entertainer, not just a singer. I immersed myself in the folk scene while with him and learned so much. The ironic thing about that is that Paul and I originally moved to this area because of the folk scene but never felt comfortable in it, diving into the world of rock & roll instead.
Dick also taught me and many others to embrace my feelings and not be afraid of them, no matter how uncomfortable they may be at the time. That's one reason I was able to succeed in my chosen music path. Now, all three of those men are gone. They left a lasting mark on me, making me a better and stronger person in spite of the hardships we endured together and the hurtful things that were said and done. There were good reasons why I left each of my partners, but I can't deny the things I learned from them and from those experiences. I'm sorry they're gone. I'd love to share this with them.