Making Music
Made music last night. It was a spur of the moment thing. Last month my steel guitar playing youngest son asked my bass playing daughter to sit in with him during a monthly music gathering a friend of his has started. This month they invited me. I read the charts. We practiced a bit and off we went. If there is anything better than making music with your children, I’d be happy to take nominations. We played a raft of country standards all featuring the steel guitar and I think everyone was happy. I know I was.
I never thought for a moment when my wife and I set off on our journey more than 50 years ago that we would raise a group of children successful at their occupations who all played music as a sideline. But we did. And it’s magic. The acknowledged leader of our ragtag band is the youngest son and middle of our three children. He started out in junior high on trumpet. Took piano lessons. Learned guitar. Plays bass and taught himself the pedal steel. He knows music theory. As in he really knows it. It’s fun following his lead. He’s a good adviser. And if there is anything you’d like to know about trees, he’s your man there, too.
When you play music with other people, and it works, it’s as though you’re all speaking this insane beautiful language that fills you and your listeners with tons of joy. Because, endorphins. Oh, my god. The brain says, hey, try this and whoosh your brain is bathed in them, and happiness prevails. That’s what happened to me last night as a full moon rose in the sky opposite the stage and a cool breeze blew. We put music out into the night sky and I know somewhere the mother of these children was listening and thought, this is good and it was.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver's Tale