bio

A brief Bio

I was born August 19th, 1954 at St. Anthony's Hospital in Rock Island Illinois. I was there until April 14th 1955, when my adoptive parents, Charles and Marjorie Watson came from Peoria Illinois to take me home.

Home was a tiny house at 3215 Finnell street. My mother had 8 brothers and sisters, so I was surrounded by family. I attended Holy Family grade school until the afternoon of November 22nd, 1963 when we were informed over the intercom by the principal that the president had been shot; we were to go home and pray for him and his family.

There was a u-haul van parked in the driveway. My father was taking us to live in Nebraska with his family. I said,"Nobody told me about this."

"Of course we did dear, you weren't listening."

Maybe so.

Our first home in Nebraska was at 25th and Laurel. A duplex. I went to Blessed Sacrament school, and got totally lost in Miller Park walking home my first day. I had Wonderful teachers there, the Ursuline nuns- Sr. Concepta Marie, Sr. Mary John.

We moved to 7008 Minne Lusa Blvd a year later. I thought Nebraska kids were tougher, and talked funny. Now I'm tougher and talk funny, too.

I went to high school at Archbishop Rummel. I'd go back and give it a better shot if I could. Sour grapes. I have no use for them any more. My sophomore English teacher, Roselea Weskirchen inspired my love of writing. Radio station KOIL and later Radio Free Omaha kept me up late listening to that incredible musical stew that was the sixties and early seventies.

My father bought me a Gibson Les Paul at Mid City Pawnshop. I guess he somehow knew I would learn to play it.

When we would put our garage bands together someone would always say, "Watson, you know the words to this song, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Well then, you sing it."

I finally realized that the singing was a deep love of mine. My own songs came over the years, mixed in with journals, notes, poems, letters, all brought home from wherever on bar napkins, and print shop bond, cobbled together in the wee hours.

I drove a truck, worked construction, took three years off from the world while I hoboed and criss crossed the country in bands, or hitchhiking, lost and searching, for answers I already had.

21 years ago I followed my father into the printers trade, starting one fall morning when I became afraid of the coming winter and my hard scrabble ways.

Now I am married, happy, connected, affluent, and I sometimes wonder how I got here- Hopefully the songs and the writings you find on this web site will explain some of it.

It's all about gratitude, you know.

Joseph

shadow Joe-in the garden.

Dundee Days- 2004




		A brief Bio I was born August 19th, 1954 at St. Anthony's Hospital in Rock Island Illinois. I was there until April 14th 1955, when my adoptive parents, Charles and Marjorie Watson came from Peoria Illinois to take me home. Home was a tiny house at 3215 Finnell street. My mother had 8 brothers and sisters, so I was surrounded by family. I attended Holy Family grade school until the afternoon of November 22nd, 1963 when we were informed over the intercom by the principal that the president had been shot; we were to go home and pray for him and his family. There was a u-haul van parked in the driveway. My father was taking us to live in Nebraska with his family. I said,"Nobody told me about this." "Of course we did dear, you weren't listening." Maybe so. Our first home in Nebraska was at 25th and Laurel. A duplex. I went to Blessed Sacrament school, and got totally lost in Miller Park walking home my first day. I had Wonderful teachers there, the Ursuline nuns- Sr. Concepta Marie, Sr. Mary John. We moved to 7008 Minne Lusa Blvd a year later. I thought Nebraska kids were tougher, and talked funny. Now I'm tougher and talk funny, too. I went to high school at Archbishop Rummel. I'd go back and give it a better shot if I could. Sour grapes. I have no use for them any more. My sophomore English teacher, Roselea Weskirchen inspired my love of writing. Radio station KOIL and later Radio Free Omaha kept me up late listening to that incredible musical stew that was the sixties and early seventies. My father bought me a Gibson Les Paul at Mid City Pawnshop. I guess he somehow knew I would learn to play it. When we would put our garage bands together someone would always say, "Watson, you know the words to this song, don't you?" "Yes." "Well then, you sing it." I finally realized that the singing was a deep love of mine. My own songs came over the years, mixed in with journals, notes, poems, letters, all brought home from wherever on bar napkins, and print shop bond, cobbled together in the wee hours. I drove a truck, worked construction, took three years off from the world while I hoboed and criss crossed the country in bands, or hitchhiking, lost and searching, for answers I already had. 21 years ago I followed my father into the printers trade, starting one fall morning when I became afraid of the coming winter and my hard scrabble ways. Now I am married, happy, connected, affluent, and I sometimes wonder how I got here- Hopefully the songs and the writings you find on this web site will explain some of it. It's all about gratitude, you know. Joseph

	shadow Joe-in the garden.



Dundee Days- 2004