Philip E. Silvey
He grew up in rural Pennsylvania, one of ten children born to an elementary principal (Dad) and a registered nurse (Mom). My mom says she knew I was musical by the way I could not stop swaying on stage when my kindergarten class performed. I started piano lessons in second grade, tried to quit a couple of years later, but had to stick to a three-year commitment I made with my folks (good thing I did). I remember during opening exercises in third grade, sitting on the crowded carpet with my legs crossed, loving the sound of all of us singing White Coral Bells in three-part canon. In sixth grade I sang my first solo, Gershwin’s I’m Bidin’ My Time, wearing a too-big-for-me cowboy hat supplied by my hippie generation music teacher, Mrs. Holsinger (yes, “singer” was right there in her name).
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