This has been a week for music. It started Sunday with two Masses, followed by playing at a benefit garden tour for the local Samaritan House homeless shelter. I went in kind of grumbly. Feeling tired and stressed, I found myself thinking, “I’m too old for this stuff. Time to quit.” Rick Nelson’s song about playing at a garden party kept playing in my head. “If you gotta play a garden party, I wish you a lot of luck, but if memories are all I sang, I’d rather drive a truck.” Etc.
But somehow the music worked its magic on me as well as my audience. By the end of the day, I decided there was nothing I’d rather do.
I’m still thinking that way after four nights of leading music at Vacation Bible School (imagine “Pharaoh, Pharoh,” sung to the tune of “Louie, Louie” and a few more reverent numbers)at Sacred Heart Church, and singing Wednesday at the Toledo Street Market, above. There is nothing like music to reach inside and smooth out the kinks, to get you on your feet dancing and singing, to celebrate being alive. When you look out and see people singing along, it feels better than almost anything.
So, I’m going to keep on doing it as long as I can. I’m available for gigs. And yes, I will keep writing, too. Words and music. I can’t help thinking they’re connected.
Unleashed in Oregon 