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“OH, I SO WISH I COULD SING LIKE THAT!”… I said to myself as Jon and I sat glued to the TV. We were watching Jennifer Nettles, the lead singer in the band Sugarland, and we were mesmerized. ”What a power-house,” Jon said.. and I added “What a gorgeous example of having real ownership of one’s craft!” We both couldn’t (wouldn’t) budge…we didn’t want her to stop singing (ever).
While watching her, I actually started having an inner conversation with God (Jon didn’t know…). Without moving my lips, I whispered to God…”You know, I’d actually consider coming back and taking this life-long ride again if you would promise me that I could sing like her…PLEEEASE, I want to make music!…My WISH of wishes is to move people like that! “
As I write to you now, I’m listening to her, through my headphones. My head is tilted down, my eyes are closed (Yes, I can type with my head down and with eyes closed. I’m in a “feeling-place” where I’d like to stay.
It’s so interesting how easy it is to isolate what we see and hear and then form all kinds of broad-stroke opinions …
Like “she must be happy because she sings like an angel” and “If I could sing like that I would never have a bad day–I would be able to just show up, open my mouth and everyone would love me because my voice would carry with it that kind of command; the kind of power that propels people to sit up and listen…to pay attention and really hear what’s in my heart.” Then I started thinking about what the lyrics say in the most successful (embraced) songs, especially in Country Western music. They’re all about experiencing extreme heartache and doing the best one can to hopefully overcome (at least until the next time she/he (we) need to climb back up the emotional mountain…). Hmmm….do I really want to trade places and “be” in someone else’s shoes??
I started to think about musical power, defined…
Great music seems to encapsulate humanity’s truths, softened by and wrapped around foot-tapping, torso swaying, feeling-inducing melody and, of course, by that most important component; the vessel that helps the package actually penetrate…. a real person. Personal conveyance. …even in a song without any words–it’s the body that enables the inner spirit to unleash itself onto a keyboard, a set of drums and/or in any instrument used in any band or orchestra.
Something about this topic started to feel oddly familiar and got me wondering if this kind of power is limited to music…
Today, August 8, is the two year anniversary of my father’s death.
I remember the afternoon before he passed, I was standing in my kitchen and suddenly became filled with a sense of urgency. The night before, I had been with him and my whole family at his dining room table. We were all eating dinner together, my father at one end, in his usual spot, and my mother at the other. His head stayed tilted down, eyes fixed on his plate while moving his fork slowly around the food, taking in only a few small savory bites. We were all trying to keep the mood bright by talking as usual but my dad stayed silent–it was as if he was trying to record the sound of every-one’s voice so he could take it with him forever. I swear I could hear his thoughts! I’m sure that he knew that this was the last time he would have his family all around him at the table. He was right.
The next day, although I certainly couldn’t know that my dad was just hours away from the end, I felt an overwhelming need to bake for him–somehow knowing that, this time, it would be the last time. There was a raw pastry dough in the refrigerator and, being peach season, I decided to make my father a fresh peach tart. As I drove to his house the tart, still warm and beyond aromatic, sat next to me in the passenger seat. While driving, my right foot and both hands, by this point in his cancer, felt numb and the car seemed to kindly carry me and my tart on automatic pilot.
Fresh Peach Galette
I came into the house and he was, as usual, propped in a therapeutic chair, with the back of his big, round, silver head visible. The TV was on. So, tart in hand, I stood in front of the 5 o’clock news and managed to muster my usual “up” tone with “Hi Dad, wanna see what I made you?” For the first time, my dad said “Laur, I’m in bad shape. I can’t even look at it.”
Up until this point in his ordeal, my cooking would always really perk him up. For a few minutes he would try to forget that his belly was full of cancerous fluid and he would pretend that he could eat all his favorites. Not today. Not ever again.
So, I put the tart aside and, at that moment, I realized that it wasn’t about my dad eating the tart since he hadn’t been able to eat more than a few mouthfuls of anything in 4 1/2 months. I think the sense of urgency I felt, standing in my kitchen, was because I so wanted him to be able to experience my love for him, one more time. To be serenaded by my peach tart, a song made just for him.
So, I guess I’m a musician, too! (Who knew??)
At first, I must admit, I felt a bit bummed, after succumbing to the truth that (in this lifetime) I’ll never sing like Jennifer Nettles. But, then I remembered another truth; that there’s all kinds of ways to make music and, clearly, my way of creating and sharing a lifetime of “greatest hits” is in and from my kitchen. Here, I’ve formed a rock-solid partnership with my instruments forming another, albeit different, type of “power-house.”
By cooking, all throughout my adult life, I’ve fixed sad days, calmed worried souls and conveyed the deepest devotion I could muster. I’ve been able to create soothing food aromas that have, like clockwork, lured and captured people, bringing them to their seats. Cooking has evoked a kind of trust so intimate that people actually take, deep inside, things created with my bare hands. Whether sweet or savory, simmered, seared, baked or roasted, when food is prepared and presented fearlessly I’ve, most often, been rewarded with wide-eyed wonderment and have provided toe-wiggling comfort. And, like a great song, each dish is built, shared, digested and then able to be revisited.
The Point: I think that it’s a waste of precious time to wish I was like anyone else and that, regardless of the industry, it’s the passion in a person’s heart, their devotion to hone their particular skills and their unwavering determination to share both–it’s this marriage that provides the key elements to creating a true concerto which, to me, is being a positive force to another being–without necessarily having a picture perfect story. And so, like in those sad songs, although in the end we can’t always be triumphant, sometimes it really can be enough to just show up and sing our hearts out.
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Lauren, I love your blogs. The only downside is that they make me hungry! Those muffins, those bagels!!!…and I’ll never eat a peach tart again without thinking of your Dad. You’re a great person.
Comment by Lynn — August 10, 2009 @ 9:39 pm
Thank you, Lynn, so much, for your sweet words! I LOVE knowing that someone (somewhere) is reading my blogs…so happy. You’re a great person, too!
Comment by Lauren — August 10, 2009 @ 11:40 pm