Thursday, May 2, 2013

life is but a musical


Katie (16) doesn't have school today.  She's worked so hard to get this far with her college courses.  She's only has one more final coming up on Monday.  I let her sleep late.  When she woke she started vacuuming. She said that mom had told her to vacuum the entire house when she woke up.

I've been downstairs listening to her singing over the noise of the vacuum cleaner.  My 10 year old daughter is a little music maker too.  Earlier in the week Kelsey cleaned up the kitchen all by herself.  I enjoyed hearing her sweet little voice humming loudly to herself as she worked diligently.


When I was growing up, we had this huge hilly yard to mow and only a small push mower to mow it.  It would take me five hours to get the job done.  I'd push that mower and sing song after song.  Our neighbor, Mr. E.N. "Bud" Lawley would come out on his porch and sit down on his stoop.  He'd pop open a beer and watch me from a distance as I worked.  I'd wave every time I saw sitting up there him.  He'd nod his head and wave back.  He'd watch me, always smiling.

I figured Mr. Lawley came out of his house to sit there every day just for the heck of it, but I later found out that he came out to watch and listen to me work.  Sometimes I'd go into a self-entertaining comedic monologue, but most of the time I sang.  It was dad that told me about Mr. Lawley.  Bud Lawley came over and talked to my dad one afternoon.  Mr. Lawley mentioned during the conversation that anytime he heard that lawnmower of mine crank, he'd come out to watch Westbrook's youngest son carry on as he worked.

Mowing such a big yard was boring.  I'd entertain myself as I went along.  I didn't know I was entertaining the entire neighborhood.  If I knew I had an audience, I would've put on more of a show.

Years ago my brother and I were on a mini-tour down South (Alabama-Florida-Louisiana). We walked into The Donut Hole in Destin, FL for breakfast.  It was pretty packed place and I was singing to myself while getting out of the car and on into the joint.  Brook looked over to me and said, "David, life is not a musical."  I quipped back, "Your life isn't ~ mine is."

 
Actually my brother's life is very musical.  He's an exceptional guitar player, singer and songwriter.  He just doesn't sing to himself while in the grocery store or post office.
I often sing while I work, sing while I run errands.  I sing all the time.  As a massage therapist, I find myself humming to the music playing on the jam box.  Sometimes I sing a little during a session - usually old hymns.  I've had clients call me on several occasions 'The Singing Masseuse'.  Music in itself is good therapy.

So I listen to my children sing as they work and it's music to my ears.  I hope that their lives will be musicals too.
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