I am excited

I used to occasionally have the pleasure of sitting with folks who played and sang country music: different groups, at different times of my life.  People who just simply loved to sing with others.  Most all of them had guitars, and I had a whole family of next-door neighbors who were always ready to sing around their son's piano fifty years ago; their daughter has a little country band these days.  I learned to play guitar in a group of people who went to church where my family did;.  For a time I sang in a quartet of like-minded ladies;  we would practice once or twice each month, then take our songs to sing to people in old folks' homes.  One way or another, I have always felt a desire to sing with folks, just for the fun of it.  By the year 2000, that had long become a thing of the past.

I am not a social person, and I never have driven a car except when I was supposed to be learning to drive in school; the teacher said he'd let me pass if I promised to never drive again, and I haven't (true story, and he said it in front of the whole class).  So that limited me, because I had no way to get around any people who sang.  I have sung at three different churches in our town because if I attended for awhile, someone would say, "Do you still write songs," or "Didn't you used to sing?"  I'd tell them I hadn't done that for a very long time; but they always kept after me to sing at church, and I would do it, mainly for the opportunity to sing the songs I have written, knowing that those songs will never see the light of day after I die.  But I would much rather have had some people to get together with, and sing just for the joy it gives me.

About a year ago, an old friend I worked with in the 1970's came to visit.  She said she still had some old tapes of me singing, and listened to them all the time.  She said she was in some stage of dementia, and I told her, "Welcome to the club."  She was one of the people in the groups I sometimes sang with when we worked together.  She wanted to get together again, although she said she can't play guitar or sing any more.

That's the last I heard of that, likely because of her failing memory, until a couple weeks ago.  Terri called me and said another lady we used to sing with, Lorraine Ramey, wanted us to come and relive the old days of making a joyful noise.  Her husband was a very good singer and guitar player who loved bluegrass, but he died quite some time ago, way too soon.  

Well, today's the day.  I hardly ever play my guitar alone at home any more, unless I'm tuning it up to take it to church.  So yesterday I got it out just to see if I could even play it.   The thing about this sort of gathering is that you don't have to be good:  If you miss a word or two, or hit a wrong chord, nobody cares.  And by the way, there is as much talking as there is singing when folks get together like this.  

That wonderful lady in Buckner has given me the best gift I could possibly have received.  A singalong!

One more time with feeling, friends, so take it from the top.  This one is bound to be the last one, so let's give it everything we've got.  

with apologies to Kristofferson, may he rest in peace, for me messing with his "One More Time With Feeling" lyrics.