Trip Log 5
Captain’s Log Stardate 2022.2.5. The cold persists. The music endures. The companionship maintains. Sleep is hard to come by. And yesterday a strange thing happened. The trip took a personal turn. I was invited to perform on the stage of The Lost Love Saloon, one of the festivals small venues. Two songs following the scheduled performance of Walt Wilkins. It was part of segment where less well-known performers are given their time in the spotlight. To say I am less well-known is a massive understatement.
I have to confess, it was a surprise, and at first, I nearly refused. But then I embraced the shortness of life and agreed. Afterall, I play in front of people all the time and even though the audiences consist mainly of my friends and the gatherings are small, it is still a performance. And many of my friends were in the audience last night and I knew they loved me for myself if not entirely for my music.
So, up I went when my turn came. I played a song about my late wife and recalled that the room where I first met her in 1969 was much the same size as the one where I played last night. And I was playing then, too. And I knew, without really thinking about it, that the energy of that room and this room would carry me through, and it did. And I felt my personal universe shift, just a bit with the completeness of the moment. I followed with a bright tune about how I thought she hung the stars, and I was done. I floated off the stage to the warm embrace of the living, my friends, and new friends too because isn’t that what music does? Bring people together. A man and a woman in 1969. All of us, now? it does, and to that I say, alleluia.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale