I grew up in a house full of music and sang in the choir from kindergarten through college. After college, my singing was limited to the shower, those rare moments when my roommates left me home alone, or later when I was in the car.
One of my fondest memories of my time in Atlanta is driving with my best friend Karryn, singing our hearts out so loudly with the Indigo Girls that we both missed calls on our cell phones.
Since August, I’ve been singing with a group of people, once a month, at a local bar. This folk/bluegrass music night is often the highlight of my week. It’s a eclectic group- ranging in age from 2o/30s to 90s and instruments like stand up bass, cigar box guitar, banjo, violin, ukulele, accordion, saw, bones, bongos and bodhran.
I go, I do my best to sing along, sometimes grab a tambourine or vibra slap and attempt to keep time. More than anything, I like being part of the music, feeling it travel through the floor and up through the legs of my chair. It’s a welcoming group- whether you’re there to listen or join in, from novice to pro.
Music, I think, is a cultural language. While anyone can become proficient by listening, you only become fluent when you’re involved in its creation.
Here’s to living fluently and harmoniously.