The Music of Life

We should all play!

Open mic night at the summer music gathering with my 80-year old Dad, playing June Apple

I am a musician.

As I write those words, my brain says, “But you aren’t an expert player.”

“You only play music for fun.”

Phooey.

If you play music, you are a musician.

I count myself as lucky that I was born to artistic, affectionate parents who made music a natural part of life. The lilting melodies of Chopin’s Waltz in C#minor played by my mom on the piano was my first lullaby.

Dad’s flamenco guitar playing was an ever present soundtrack to my childhood. He played intricate, dramatic pieces such as Recuerdos de la Alhambra, which conjures the images of waterfalls at the the Alhambra Palace and Generalife Gardens, which we later visited together in Spain.

My father became accomplished on fiddle, banjo and mandolin when I was a kid, as well, joining a group playing Irish and Old-Time music in the 1980’s. They are still playing together professionally. Music is a life-long passion of his, an adjunct to his career as a visual artist, print maker, and university professor.

The sounds of Dad learning fiddle on Saturday mornings weren’t pleasant, but I’m still fond of the memory. He demonstrated that in order to become an accomplished musician you have to push through the beginner phase. No one skips it. You have to spend more time playing the instrument in order to get there. He also modeled getting up early so you can get a lot done in a day.

Until I was eight years old and my parents separated, we lived together in the Piney woods of East Texas on several acres. It was a quiet, serene environment among the trees and birds, where the closest town was a fifteen minute drive away. TV was a special treat, enjoyed sparingly, since there were only three network TV channels and there were only a few shows I enjoyed, like Love Boat and Fantasy Island.

I sang all the time, as natural as a bird, unencumbered by concerns of whether I was good or not. I had a small record player in my room where I danced to my favorites, The Sesame Street Record and Monster Mash.

Though my parents were not compatible in marriage, they shared an interest in the arts, reading, and intellectual pursuits. They taught me through example that whether you are good at playing or singing music depends on dedication. Their message was that you shouldn’t stop doing something that you weren’t succeeding at, rather you should keep at it and get good instruction. Most of all, music was a part of life for everyone to enjoy, not just for the lucky few who are experts or professionals.

I enjoyed taking piano for a couple of years, starting at age 8, but I lost interest when my mom and I moved, and my interests in skating, dance, and social life took over. I did keep singing, though, in school choirs all the way through college. I had many wonderful experiences in choirs, particularly performing in musicals in middle school and high school. However, the tension of “not being that good” stopped me from pursuing singing and playing an instrument as an adult for a long time.

Fortunately, Dad showed me that music creates community. Music parties were a staple of my childhood. All the players would bring their instruments and families, set up chairs in the lawn or in the living room, and play into the night. I remember many nights falling asleep to the music in a pile of coats on the host’s bed. He also played in weekly jams at The Old Time String Shop, an old fashioned mercantile in an historic downtown building in East Texas, always welcoming me to come with him and to join in playing when I was ready.

Dad got remarried to a wonderful woman, who also shares a love of music and unrelenting support for such pursuits. They brought me to a music gathering in North Carolina one summer after I was an adult, paying my way for a week of classes, jams, concerts and dances, and brought me into a whole new world of music. When we started going around ten years ago, the gathering was a respite for me: Time away from the family and work to focus solely on music and myself. It’s now a yearly tradition for all of us, now including my family, to attend the gathering and explore the area. Our two adult sons haven’t yet taken up music, after short stints as kids learning piano like me. But given my journey, I still hope for them to join in.

I always wanted to learn an instrument, but I never made it happen until my Dad helped my husband David pick out a classical guitar as a gift for me. I was around 35 years old when I discovered how fulfilling it was to play. I loved it, taking a few years of private lessons, attending workshops, and singing and playing for my Dad’s 75th birthday party with friends.

As much as I love my guitar, I discovered my instrument a few years after that, when I took a beginner class at the North Carolina music gathering. Dad had loaned me his magnificent Gibson mandolin, which bonded me instantly to the sound and feeling of it. Learning of my interest, David once again gifted me with a beautiful instrument. (Thank you, Dave!)

My mandolin is my true musical love. Guitar playing is fun, ukulele too, but mandolin playing is something else. It fits my hands perfectly. I love that you can play the mandolin simply as a beginner and make nice sounds early on. I love the versatility of it and the rarity. In music jams, I’m often the only one playing mandolin among a sea of guitars.

I think each of us has our instrument. There is one out there for everyone. If you don’t try them out, how will you know which one is yours?

I was so delighted that David took up guitar about six years ago. He recently got hooked on mandolin, as well, and my Dad and I gifted him his own on his last birthday. Music gives us a shared interest and an opportunity to have weekly dates attending class together. We take an ensemble class at a local music school and have fostered a wonderful community of friends.

The most magical part of my musical journey is finding my singing voice. In the friendly setting of our ensemble class where a group of students learns how to play as a band, I started singing again. It’s a safe environment to try things for the first time, before you are good at it. I’ve learned to play mandolin solos and sing lead. Though it’s hard to coordinate playing the mandolin and singing, I love the sparks that fly when I hit it right and sing a song that I love. Our classmates, now friends, are so sweet and supportive. They seem to genuinely enjoy my singing, and we make beautiful harmonies together.

I have many wonderful musical moments to visit in the theater of my memories, but they are not all positive, of course. My experiences as an adult have helped heal some wounds from competitive experiences in school. It’s been so healing that I have to dig down deep to find those moments. I think it’s okay to let them recede, and enjoy the positive ones.

At the end of each eight-week class session at our music school we have a showcase night where we perform a song or two on stage for friends, family and fellow students. Last time, I sang harmony with my friend Erin, with our friends surrounding us on guitars, banjo, bass and ukulele. We all nailed our parts and had a great time. I looked out in the audience to see people’s smiling faces, nodding along, joining in singing on the choruses. I took a second to enjoy the moment, looking around at everyone on stage who was making music together. It made my heart sing too.

My advice to you, dear reader, is to allow yourself to explore trying an instrument, singing, or even listening deeply, learning songs intimately. Don’t worry about being good at it, just embrace the experience.

It will enrich your life infinitely.