Rap music for people who don’t like rap music.
I’ve been making music all my life. Singing, drumming, trumpet, handbells…
I like almost every kind of music, except for rap/hiphop and twangy country music.
So this foray into making and performing rap music myself is probably the most unexpected turn my life has ever taken. It’s a long, convoluted, and entirely improbable journey that has led me here, but like most things I get involved in, once I’ve decided to do it, I’m going to do it.
My life is filtered through this test: if it doesn’t help someone or bring me joy, then I don’t have time for it.
Creating stories through the art of rap music brings me joy.
Performing them, even more so.
And if those stories touch people, cause them to think, or empower them to look at their own lives in a new way, then they’re helping people as well.
So it’s entirely appropriate that my first single, “Ring My Bell” - a song intended to inspire those with cancer to live their best lives while they fight - is raising funds for local Alberta cancer charities.
The name “ story. “ refers to how I write and what my songs are. I’ve been writing stories for as long as I can remember - I even wrote a novel - and when I sit down to write a song, my brain goes right to story mode. My songs aren’t collections of bars full of wordplay and double meanings, they’re stories reconfigured to rhyme and fit a beat.
The iconic hat and chain are elements of my image that came from one of the darkest periods of my life. In January 2026, I was informed that I had cancer in my bones (my third cancer diagnosis) and that I’d need to undergo chemotherapy. Thinking ahead, I started shopping for hats, buying several styles to see which ones I liked. As it turned out, my particular flavour of chemo didn’t make my hair fall out after all, but I was already loving the hat journey. I currently have more than 30 of them, mostly trilbys, porkpies, fedoras, and bowlers.
The chain came about because at the same time I was learning about my newest cancer, my husband Rob was rushed to hospital with two life-threatening forms of
sepsis. His mental and physical capabilities cratered and I spent several hours per day at his side in hospital, trying to help him hang on. During that time, I realized that I was spending all my energy trying to help him and very little energy taking care of myself. I bought the chain because it’s heavy and the weight of it was a constant reminder that I couldn’t be any good to Rob if I allowed my own health to deteriorate.
Rob finally returned home after more than four months in hospital and is still recovering. I still wear the chain as a reminder - not a reminder to take care of myself, but now as a reminder that he and I can face incredible hardships and still not just survive, but thrive. Our marriage is our strength, and together we have faced insurmountable odds and emerged victorious. We got this.