Happy Songs
Bard and Millie were the first ones to sit at the long table where the regulars sit every Wednesday night. Bard wore a cowboy hat and boots. I’m guessing he is in his late 80s. He looked at the stage, set up with two microphones, three guitars, and a bass, and then looked over at our table as if something wasn’t right. I quickly jumped up from my chair and went over to try a few peacekeeping tactics.
Mickey joined me and we introduced ourselves, saying we were friends of Grayson’s. Our friend Grayson has played almost every Wednesday night for the past nine years at this little restaurant and he has a loyal following who come to dance. Bard stated his name a few times until I got it right, and in a soft voice, Millie said her name. I explained that we had planned to sit in with Grayson but he came down sick and asked if we wanted to cover the gig. “So here we are,” I smiled. Then I asked what kind of music they wanted to hear, fully expecting Bard to say “Country.” But he didn’t. Instead, he said, “happy songs.” With a sigh of relief, I said, “we can do that.”
The long table gradually filled up until every chair was taken. A few others took their seats in the booths and surrounding tables. Fortunately, a few of our friends came out which really helped lighten our apprehension. We started our first set, trying to iron out the sound as we went. Bard and Millie immediately took the dance floor. From our first song to the last, they danced. Even when most of the crowd gathered up their coats at 9 pm sharp (which we were told was to be expected), Bard and Millie stayed.
When we were finished, Bard asked where we were playing next. We later found out that Bard and Millie hadn’t been married that long. After watching them dance all night, it was obvious that they weren’t going to waste a precious minute of the time they have together, however short or long it may be. Who knows the heartaches they have already experienced in their lives up until this point.
When we lived in Nashville, I played for Musicians on Call. Once a week, I would take my guitar and go room to room and play a song for a patient at their bedside. Without fail, every time, I walked away feeling incredibly blessed by the people I played for. Those experiences taught me a life-changing truth — if I do my part and play the song from my heart, the offering magnifies, and takes on a life and power of its own — reaching others in ways far beyond what I give.
My dream is to touch people’s hearts with a song, and right now, I’m living that dream. As we packed up our guitars and loaded our equipment in the van, I thought about Bard and Millie and the others we played for that night and was filled with gratitude. They are why we do what we do. We’re not waiting for something better to come along. Now is all we have. This moment. This song. This dance. It reminded me of the time I played for a man lying in his hospital bed. When I finished the song, he asked, “Why aren’t you playing on the big stage?” I stood there for a minute and thought about it, then I smiled, and said, “This is the big stage.”
Before Bard walked out the door, he turned around and asked “Can you play Queen of Hearts, Footloose, and House of the Rising Sun?”
