Missing the Music and the Joy

 

"Music washes away from the soul

the dust of everyday life."

-- Berthold Auerbach

Copyright © 2022

By Ralph F. Couey

There were many things that ended up being casualties of the Pandemic, like normal life for instance.  But while most communities have started that long, slow journey back, there were some losses.  

There were a lot of things I used to do before this thing started, to which some I've returned.  Medical facilities are still requiring masks, but everywhere else, its become optional.  I still feel a sense of hesitation before entering WalMart, automatically reaching into my pockets for a mask.  The variants are still raging, and there are still people getting sick, even the completely vaccinated and boosted.  But for most of us, I think we're so exhausted by the whole thing that it's no longer the front-and-center attention grabber that it once was.

The task of putting our lives back together goes on.  Vacations are now being planned and taken.  People gather in large crowds without a second thought.  Businesses are getting snippy about getting people back from working in pajamas to being present in the workplace.  Zoom, once a novelty, is now mainstream, along with all the other video meeting tools.  So, there has been a kind of paradigm shift, one that might change the way we do business in the future.

One of the casualties for me was the Irish Music sessions.  Twice a month, I would gather with a lively group of very talented musicians for about 3 hours to play along with their encyclopedic knowledge of traditional music.  Those halted when the shutdowns began to happen.  This had become one of the highlights of my month, I labored long and hard on my Bodhran (a frame drum) hoping to at least not gum up the works.  I also sang occasionally, though I had to use lyric sheets as I suffer from CRS.  (Can't Remember Songs.)  Still, they were a patient lot as they educated me on the music and the session rules.  I thoroughly enjoyed myself.  Over time, it became a highlight in my life.  I always looked forward to going and I went when ever I could.  Losing that little joy kinda made the Pandemic a little darker.

My work schedule has changed due to some long-standing staffing issues, meaning I work a combination of evening and midnight shifts.  Because of that, there's only one evening a week that I have free, unfortunately, it's not the same night as everyone else.  I've thought about hosting one on Tuesdays, if I could locate a usable venue, and wasn't so afraid that no one could come.  

Still, I've continued to practice, utilizing the Internet and some CD's.  I'd like to think I'm getting more proficient, but being alone, I have no stick by which to measure progress.  I recently bought an Irish tin whistle and an instruction book, and I'm starting the long, slow, sometimes frustrating process of learning a new instrument.  It'll be months before I'll be brave enough to do this in front of others, but at least I've started.  

 

The actual number of traditional Irish tunes is unknown, but thought to be well into the high hundreds.  Some are as much as 200 years old, and new ones are always being composed.  One of the purposes of a session is a way for musicians to explore new songs and replay favorites.  Also to stretch themselves.  A person is never done learning, and that's especially true in music.  I did grow a bit as a musician, but there's a long way to go yet.  But the best part is the fellowship of sharing a common love for the music.  I think I miss that more.

Irish music has a global following, and rare is the city where you can't find a session.  There's even some groups in Moscow, Russia who gather and play.  This universality is one of its attractions.  As for as I know, there's almost nobody who regularly gathers to sing tradition French, German, or Russian songs.  It's the kind of music that's hard not to like, and easy to love.  The songs run the gamut from nonsense and humor, to sad and sentimental, to strident and strong, all mirroring the turbulent history of the Island from which it was formed.  Once it gets into your blood - your heart -  it just doesn't let go.

As the years have passed, I've had to let go of things that once were important to me.  Softball and motorcycling in particular.  As one gets older, the ability to do those things fades away.  The hope is that those things held enough happy memories to keep the dark shade of regret from shrouding them.  But this is one thing I don't want to let slip away.  

I once read a story about an old Irishman who played the fiddle at the local pub in session.  He had been there for as long as anyone could remember, never missing a night.  He knew by heart every Irish song ever written.  According to the story, he passed in the middle of one of those sessions.  

All things considered, there are far worse ways to go.