Amish Guitar

I've not had much time or inclination to post here over the last few weeks. Real life has gotten quite interesting and I've alluded to some of it already. My wife's health continues to be a concern, though she is clearly on the mend. Beyond that there is several lessor stress inducing events going on that have had my attention. At the top of that list is the fact that we're trying desperately to sell and be rid of this house during a miserable housing market. That, plus having a flooded basement during our first showing last week really took the wind out of my sail.

It's not that I haven't taken the time to play. It's just that I don't know what I'd write about it. Thankfully spring has finally come to northern Indiana and I've taken advantage of the warmer weather. Last Wednesday I was able to take Patrick (my Oscar Schmidt) out to the library's picnic table and just wail away a lot of my frustrations. Nearby to the table the library has erected a bird feeder and I was not alone in my song making. It was a little unreal in hearing birdsong alongside my passionate, hard strumming. But the end result was my becoming a little gentler and I was struck at how the two sounds merged and meshed. I even fancied that the birds were somehow reacting and echoing my guitar. How much of that may have been true, I don't know. I'm just saying that I was struck with the beauty of birdsong and I was truly inspired that half hour.

Stress will ever be a part of our lives, but if I can find those half hours every now and again, I'll be ok.

I've not been able to play my guitar the last few evenings. Well, make that I haven't wanted to. I suppose all players go through periods where they just don't feel like playing. It's odd, though, that as my depression has lifted this winter, I've wanted to play less. You'd think I'd have more energy and desire to play. It's not that way, however. The only way I can express it is to say there isn't any music in me right now. Playing guitar has always been cathartic for me. Actually, the very genesis of this journey was to pour my depression and anxious energy into a more productive endeavor. And I've written more than once about how hearing the music I play brings out emotions I wasn't aware I was dealing with. So, I suppose it shouldn't be a surprise that as I feel better, I don't need the therapy as much.

Part of the problem too is that I've reached the end of being a beginner. It's no longer a challenge at the level I'm at; no longer something to overcome. And I'm not sure what the next step will be.

At any rate, this isn't the end for AmishGuitar. I recognize it for what it is--a lull, a respite. I enjoy playing in church and for my kids way too much for me to walk away now.

There are times when even my guitar cannot bring the catharsis I seek.

Dammit.

Today I returned to my High School to watch my daughter perform at the annual Music Booster Auction. The auction lasts all day interspersed with performances from all music groups from grades 5 through 12. It is the first time I've attended since graduating 20 years ago. I couldn't wait to get out of there.

Music was a very important and prominent part of my high school career. I was in band, choir and the show choir, every musical, took music theory and a self directed history of music. I was Drum Major, Vice Pres of the Band, Choir President and Band Librarian. Everyone expected that I'd go on to major in music and teach--probably choral. Little did they know how much I hated it.

I hated how it defined me and how it limited me. I hated how so many kids band, choir and drama cared so deeply and passionately for these programs--how they invested their whole identity in being a "Band Geek". I hated how I continued to find myself being looked up to by friends, underclassmen and even parents as a leader. I had a modicum of talent, a flair for the dramatic and the willingness to make a fool of myself. For this I was put on a pedestal. I was Mr. Music, class of '88.

Yes, I have demons from my high school days.

It is still so frustrating thinking back on those days. I loved making the music. I long for playing in band or in a choir again. I miss it so much. I don't miss the expectations and the pressure. I don't miss tyring to push my defining boundaries beyond what others perceived. I don't miss trying to get others to understand me as someone other than Mr. Music. Sure, close friends and family knew, but you know how easy it is to be labeled in high school. Of course, little did I realize everyone was chafing against this pigeonholing.

So, fast forward 20 years and now I have a daughter that is entering into this world I have tried to put behind me. I am excited for her and her self confidence. I'm happy to see her enjoying alto sax and choir. I am fighting my demons for her sake. But, at the auction today, I found myself wanting to crawl out of my skin. Too many memories. Too many old, familiar faces saying that it figured I'd have a child involved in music. New worries about the expectations that will be on my daughter. Too many calls from the boosters for my time and money.

I am still burnt out on high school music.

I realize that this post is a whiny, petulant piece of drivel. Completely irrational and woefully egotistical. I share this because it is out of these feelings that my adult musical life has been shaped and molded. It is why I took up the guitar so I could make music on my own terms.

I'm not sure what to do. I want and need to support my daughter. But I just don't have the energy to involve myself back into that world.

The gig got canceled due to flooding.

I should explain a bit. There is a county park just to the south of our church and every September the park service holds a celebration there. Think arts and crafts, food, old tractors. See, part of the park is an operating grain mill powered by the local river that has been operating since the late 1800s. So the celebration hearkens back to a simpler life.

Our church has had a food booth there for something like 22 years. Recently we've also been involved in the community worship service there. That was the service our praise band was going to play at.

But not this year. For the first time in it's 33 year history, the celebration has been cancelled due to torrential rains and flooding. Yeah for me, bad for our church. We're stuck with 75 homemade pies, dozens of sheets of cornbread, about 5 gallons of homemade ham and bean soup and about 40 pounds of sloppy joe meat. Sadly, I'm on a strict diet or I would consider it my duty to help out.

Getting back to the subject at hand, as this is a guitar blog, I am both relieved and disappointed at the same time. I guess part of me wanted to prove I could do it, or at least see how far I could go playing by ear. I'll be playing before my home congregation tomorrow instead. Since no one really had anything planned, we're just going to do the same thing we had planned for the community service: old fashioned hymn sing, sermon, pass the plate and get out by eleven. It will be easier to play in front of this crowd.

Last night the praise team had another practice for the upcoming community worship I wrote about earlier. One of the members had gone through most the hymns and chorded them out, so that's good. I still feel very unprepared, but I'm going to do it anyway. Why? Because my modus operandi seems to be that I worry and fret and fear performances and it always turns out ok. And, if it doesn't, I can stop playing and just sing.

Thankfully I've learned not to change strings the night before a performance. :^)

Some good news is in order, however. I played my song Caitlyn's Starshine for my friend Doug. Some of you longtime readers may remember Doug from when I asked him to critique another song of mine. He was honest then and it hurt. This time, however, he really liked it and wanted me to show him the chords.

Yeah me!

I am in way over my head. Our church praise team was asked to lead an old fashioned hymn sing at a community worship next Sunday. I thought it would be mostly the same songs we play Sunday mornings. Nope. Old Time Gospel. And no chord notation.

Now, I've got enough music theory under my belt that when they said, 'Don't worry, most gospels are based on I, IV and V,' I knew what they meant. The major chords built on the first, fourth and fifth tone in a given scale. That's all well and good. It's another thing to play by ear to it. Especially if it's some weird a** key like A flat.

Thankfully, I'm not the only one in the group who feels completely unprepared. Another fella in the group plays exclusively off of chord notation. So, we're going to stand in the back and do the strumming equivalent of mouthing "watermelon watermelon" during the service. :^)

Wish me luck. I'm gonna work on I, IV, V in the more common keys this week.

Hoo boy.