To give of ourselves from a place of kindness, honesty, and respect is the best we can share in a world that is hurting and so much in need of love. 

My family raised me to see humanity in others. Oh, I have my not-so-great moments, especially in the heat of an initial reaction. I’m neurodivergent, so sometimes it is difficult to regulate my emotions—a reason, not an excuse.  

So yes, I get mad like anyone, but I am unable to sustain hatred for a person. I see no value in “othering” or putting myself above my fellow man, for we all benefit when others are at their best. 

I’ve been writing music for a long time, since I was a young kid taking piano lessons and playing up front at church. My parents bought me a Takamine acoustic guitar when I was 14. I named her Carol, and the majority of my music was written on her. Carol has been with me everywhere; on church serving trips, through two terms of AmeriCorps up and down the Eastern and Southern Coasts, and to Ganki, Mauritania when I joined the Peace Corps (and learned so much from some wonderful people in West Africa until there was a coup). 

She came with me to Hawaii where I went to study diplomacy and war history, intending to join the Foreign Service. I ended up meeting a different destiny when I was drawn to the dramatic but truthful voices I found near the library, then met and married the love of my life. I graduated from HPU with a degree in Theatre, which many people think is a silly thing to have. But I learned about respecting the audience, using stories to tell the truth, and the brilliance of collaboration that makes live performance not only possible but magical. 

I’ve had Carol for 28 years. I recently took Carol to a local store to be repaired (my three-year-old knocked her over and broke the frog, so the low E won’t stay on the fretboard). The repair shop said they couldn’t fix her, which I am still processing. In fact, as of this writing, I haven’t been able to bring myself to go pick her up yet. That act will make it real, so I struggle not to feel guilty for leaving her there until I can pull myself together to face her and bring her home. Though I am a mediocre guitarist (my first instrument is piano, which I have studied since I was five), she is a good friend and a part of my story—especially the creation of this album. 

I like helping people. And you know what? The vast majority of my interactions all over this world have shown me that most people—across sociocultural and economic barriers of all kinds—are decent and just trying to do their best. 

I’m a live performance artist these days (pianist/keyboardist/bandleader), who up until now has mainly worked in public schools and community theatres. It is not what anyone would consider lucrative. But while I’m on the less-financially blessed side of things and entirely too busy, I’m happy with myself and how I spend my time. I don’t really enjoy being the center of attention, which is why I do things behind the curtain more often than not—playing the keys or leading others from the pit, out of sight. (I even hate being on the monitor, though I respect the necessity of keeping everyone together!) But I enjoy doing clinics for young singers, and for those who can’t do what they love to do without the support of someone like me. Indeed, “the necessity of keeping everyone together” is at the core of why I’m bringing out all the music I’ve written. It comes from my heart, which fills and breaks so much.  

When I was a kid and went to big family unions, I was always overwhelmed by the number of people I didn’t know. But we were all gathered there together trying to connect. That’s the meaning of Your Cousins. We’re all strangers here, but we’re all family. 

Welcome to the reunion. 

With love, Sara Cate