Our last name is pronounced Voh-SEE-Kuh. I have been a painter for the last thirteen years and also went back to school for engineering. Lee has been a jeweler for the last twenty. Both of us own our own businesses. It took us a few years to record this album because we both had to work every day. On weekends it was recouperate, play, and time for church. It was often that we were too tired to record in the evenings. Our families came first, and our hobbies came second. It has been simultaneously, a tiresome and exciting hike along a small winding trail along the spine of the back countries of Oregon and Washington. All the shows we did, twenty people to a thousand, had to be worked into our overloaded, gotta-pay-the-bills-and-spend-time-with-the-kids schedules. Oh, and we also love hiking and backpacking. Some things had to give. Finally, we finished our first album. Back in 1992-1993 when I (Tim) had no kids, and Lee had one, we began trying our music out on the public. My wife, Liesl (LEEH-zuhl), and I, along with my brother Lee, went out onto the streets of down-town Portland, Oregon. The Portland Saturday Market was a place where there were lots of people. So, we stood, dressed in our semi-medieval costumes, and played our own songs (and covers, too) in our less than perfect way and hoped to get tips. Since then, long after, I am wearing jeans and a T-shirt most of the time. Our kids dress up in our old medieval costumes at Halloween. By the way, in the album picture above, Lee is on the left and I am on the right (this is not a political statement). We would look for various places to test our music. One place was near the bottom of Multnomah Falls there in Oregon, back 1992 and 1993. We had all sorts of people listening to us until we got kicked out (nicely) by the general manager of the lodge there. Another place was in front of a friend's new retail store. We got tips there too, and it seemed to draw people into her store on the day of the grand opening. One guy said as he put a tip into the guitar case, "Sounds great! But no more 'Jimmie Crack Corn'." In those early days, we found a coffee shop to play at regularly. One evening while we were playing there, with a room full of people (about forty), there was no response from the audience. I kept bumping up the volume of the PA system. Still, no response. I finally asked, "Can anyone hear me out there?" An older gentleman at a table by himself near the back of the room with a 'Kermit-the-Frog" voice said, "I can hear ya just fine." Suddenly, all the other people in the room began speaking in American Sign Language across their tables to one another. Yes, they were deaf, all of them. The next week we played at that coffee shop, the employees told us that they had gotten complaints about us being too loud. Who complained? Since then, I refer to that hearing impaired group as the second hardest audience we have ever played in front of. The hardest audience were relatives at a family reunion. Through the years, they eventually began to gather instead of scatter, though. The tips we got in those days ranged from ten dollars to maybe fifty or sixty dollars. The most interesting tip we ever got was a one dollar check written to us in crayon by what appeared to us was a homeless woman. We are few, our lights glow as small points in the dark, and we hope to improve the lives of at least a few people. We are Firefly Crusaders. Take care, Tim Vosika.