My First Experience As A Solo Acoustic Musician, Part 3
I’m Gonna Try With A Little Help From My Friends
Sometimes we lose track of even our best friends. Life gets in the way — Careers, kids, commitments. Then before you know it, you’ve lost touch for a year, five years, ten, or more. I hadn’t seen Beth, a friend from as far back as grade school, in almost forty years.
Beth offered me an opportunity to perform at a community music event hosted by a friend from long ago. It would be a new experience for me. I’d played instrumental solo sets without singing, and I’d sung backing vocals with bands a bit, but singing solo, accompanying myself on guitar, would be way outside my comfort zone.
Another opportunity presented itself along with the gig. I knew that my friend Steve, who I’d lost touch with years ago but was in my wedding party, lived around the corner from Beth, my host. I’d been meaning to try to catch up with him now that our kids have finished college, but I don’t see him on social media much, and phone numbers and jobs have changed over time.
Beth was acquainted with him, and we confirmed he was likely still in the neighborhood. I thought I should at least reach out to him rather than let it be a surprise if he came down the street and saw me playing on her veranda. I still didn’t have a phone number for Steve, but I saw he was involved in a fundraising effort on Facebook, so I hit him up on Facebook Messenger. The week went by, and I didn’t think much about it; life gets in the way.
More Of The Unexpected
I had this singing thing to prepare for, which occupied much of my spare time and thought. During a two-hour trip late Friday afternoon, I made my way to Elmira to visit my sister and attend band practice. The long trip allowed me to practice singing with nobody but my steering wheel around to listen.
Then I heard that damned Messenger “DING!” while driving.
Because I was driving, I didn’t see the message but quickly looked to see who sent the message. It was Steve after about twelve years. He agreed that it was time we get back together soon.
I was looking forward to band practice, but a few hours beforehand, after I was already in town, something came up with one of the guys. The practice was canceled. There went my chance to calm my nerves by playing with the band, but I still got a valuable pep talk from our bass player, Brett.
The cancellation allowed me to spend more time with my sister and brother-in-law and get more practice on their back porch than I would have otherwise had. It was a nice relaxing day and evening. Not quite relaxing enough, though.
I didn’t sleep all night, not a wink. My unmedicated restless legs (I forgot my pills) and busy mind made it so my Apple Watch couldn’t feel any sleep. It was my first all-nighter in several years.
Trying to make the best of it, I decided that at 5:00, I might as well start my day by watching the sun come up on the back porch. I started the coffee, grabbed my iPad, and went out to do some writing.
I was surprised to see a friend online at that time of the day. I could see she’d been on a while, and since misery enjoys company, I reached out to say hello to another insomniac.
I found it intriguing to be in this position. I was combining the natural beauty of experiencing sunrise after a sleepless night with the technology of communicating digitally with someone. It wasn’t exactly like staying up all night and watching the sun come up with someone when I was in my late teens or early twenties. There were no deep philosophical discussions about life, love, or the future, but it wasn’t like chatting at 5:00 a.m. with a family member or a coworker.
There was still something special in the small talk that only comes with the fatigue that lies behind being completely awake way too early on a Sunday morning. There was nothing in our banter about what kept us up all night, but we knew there was enough on each other’s minds to keep us awake. It was an exceptional start to what I knew would be an exciting week ahead.
The Week Ahead
I contacted Steve again and agreed to meet for lunch a few days later. Now life wasn’t going to get in the way. We agreed to meet for lunch the following week. I invited Beth to join us, and we went to the same cafe I’d gone to with Beth the week before.
We hadn’t missed a beat all this time and made up for any laughs we missed. You know you’re picking up where you left off with a friend when you tell him, after not seeing him in years, “I had brain surgery…” and he responds, actually interrupts you immediately, with “Wait, you mean they can put one in?”
It was another memorable afternoon. As the week went on, I heard from a couple of other friends, one being Shawn, our band’s singer, with another dose of encouragement. Even my daughter, a brutal critic, caught me practicing and said I sounded good.
The lesson I’m learning at this point in the adventure, or re-learning, maybe, is to let the intentions be known. Let those close to you, and even those not so close, know when you’ve made that decision, that commitment. Embrace the risk of your risk.
I’ve been through the negative reinforcement for a long time. It was easy to listen to and act upon because doing nothing or giving up was easy. Once I made the no-turning-back intention, the commitment being a responsibility to someone else, in this case, Beth, the support came out of the woodwork.
The icing on the cake is the return of two friends from years apart. Maybe that’s not the icing; maybe that’s the cake because it’s the best part. It’s the part that makes it all worth it.
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