It’s true. . .
I’m a One – Song – Musician
When it comes to the Harmonica the very first song I learned,
ended up literally being the last one:
O L D S U S A N N A
I usually get lots of mileage out of that when I’m giving a Keynote Speech.
I relay it back to the strong fact that there’s not really much need for a
One-Song-Musician.
I mean, I can’t book a Concert Hall and play Old Susanna for a solid two-and-a-half hours to be followed by another fifteen minute encore, right?
The point?
Just because we do
ONE OUTSTANDING DEED,
it doesn’t let us off the hook for never having to do another one–EVER!
As much as there just isn’t much need for a One-Song-Musician,
there’s not a whole lot of curtain calls for a
One-Deed-Good-Samaritan, either.
We are NOT called to do good,
to be Compassionate,
Caring,
Understanding,
Accepting,
Forgiving,
just once or once in a while. . .
but E V E R Y T I M E
I had just given an early morning talk to an area Rotary Club
and actually began the talk without saying a word. . .
just pulling out my harmonica and playing my beloved,
O N E S O N G
I made my point.
I finished my talk to a standing ovation
(I knew I could play THAT song, but I had no idea it would cause such a powerful reaction)
and after staying around and talking with several people,
I made my way to the nearest STARBUCKS for my morning cup of coffee before during some patient visits,
a funeral
and another talk to end the day.
I KID YOU NOT
while I was standing in line,
there was a guy who came into a now fairly crowded STARBUCKS to get his morning fix actually
playing a harmonica!
Everyone kind of stopped. . .
I mean texting, googling, face-booking, tweeting, talking–
and looked up as the guy get in line right beside me playing his bluesy song.
When he came up for a breath,
I told him that I too was a HARMONICIST
“Really,” he sounded surprised?
“Really, ” I echoed back,
“but I’m a very specialized harmonicist.”
“Specialized?”
“Yes sir! I know just one song, but I know it real, real, REAL good–Old Susanna!”
We both laughed.
I asked him what he liked playing the best and he answered me by playing some rag-tag-hot-bluesy-piece.
I told him
T H A T
just earned him a free cup of coffee.
Now that our order was in, we went to the end of the other line to wait to our Fixes.
He told me that he played at as many amateur nights as he could find,
but often had to compete unfairly with guitarists.
Our orders now delivered,
I shook his hand,
thanked him for his mini-concert and wished him continued success and blessings in the present and future.
His last sentence to me was of pure music. . .
Grammy worthy:
“Thanks, my man. . .
I’m just a song looking for a pair of ears!”
Ain’t we all?
Well, worth a cup of coffee, huh?
Who would have thought that I walked in thirsting for a Breve Venti Latte
and walked out with my latte,
a smile,
a story and a great memory that I,
that we,
are m o r e,
so very much more than meets the eye or the ear.
What a shame if it were just shared
O N C E !
B E
the song that needs heard,
sung,
danced,
remembered
–repeatedly–
often. . .
H A R M O N I C S
At it’s Best !
(and o u r s)
Joe says
Beautiful story. Can’t recall who learned the only tune we each know first–probably you. I’m going to fetch my old harp and see if I still know it. (Muscle memory, do your thing. )
ChuckBehrens says
You will totally Chic Corea that bad boy. . .pipe on my good man, pipe on!