I can’t remember a time that music wasn’t a part of my life.  At a very early age, my dad bought me records of instrument sounds and stories. (You know, records?  Those big CD’s with a little hole in the middle?  Oh I forgot – they’re obsolete now too. )  Anyway, by age five  I could identify any instrument just by listening to the sound and I loved the sound of a big orchestra playing loudly.  Dad believed you should play the music loudly enough to feel it in your body.  By the time it was time to choose an instrument to play, I wanted flute, but he wanted me to play clarinet like Benny Goodman, so clarinet it was.  I think it probably helped that I couldn’t get a sound out of a flute.  Singing was also something I loved and dad introduced me to great singers and I imitated everyone I heard.  I learned breathing and phrasing and creating emotion through dynamics.  It all felt very natural. While I think I played pretty well and sang pretty well, the one thing I hated was sharing it with anyone.  The darned introvert in me wouldn’t let me get over myself enough to do that.  Somehow I must have thought nobody could hear me in the rest of the house if I had my door closed while I belted with Barbra Streisand….  I probably should mention here that I have NO problem singing and playing for children – a definite plus for an elementary music teacher I would think!

Anyway, enough of the past.  I’ve always envied people who could just let go in terms of expressing how they feel about music, especially through movement.  I love watching people and it brings great joy to me, but I just can’t do it myself.  So last night, as we sat through a great jazz concert, I just listened and watched people around me.  I’m always attracted to children because they are so free in their expressions.  There was one little girl who had her jacket that she used as a scarf and she moved it and her body to represent all of the sounds she heard.  There were toddlers holding hands and dancing in circles and another little girl shaking her braided hair to the music.  In front of me was a middle aged man who unabashedly stood and awkwardly moved his shoulders and hips to what I’m sure he thought was the beat, with a big smile on his face.  A grandmotherly woman sat behind me, knitting something pink, all the while tapping her feet and smiling.   All around me were young and old, rich and poor, different genders, ethnicities and religions. All together because something in the music spoke to them. As one of the performers shared, she believes spending nine months in the womb, listening to the mother’s heartbeat is like feeling the rhythm of the blues.

Isn’t it amazing that music has this power to bring people together in such a positive way and yet those in power very seldom see its value beyond entertainment.  Especially now when the world seems so divided, I may perhaps naively believe that more music in the lives of people is the answer.