APPLES & PEANUT BUTTER

Music is as much a part of my experience as food. If I’m out of earshot, the DJ inside my head kicks in, synthesizing rhythms and melodies that I know by heart. I never got to be in a school band or study music theory. Sheet music is like Morse Code to me, easy concept but just never took the time. It’s always been the stories; 2 to 4 minute, syncopated stories that begin and end, dance with a melody like Gene Kelly, “Singing In The Rain.” Without a story to know where you’re going and where you’ve been, it’s little more than satisfying noise. So when I’m on the road, I do the best I can. My computer is full of great music and I usually fall asleep, sinking into my I-Tunes library. Head phones and ear buds let you do that, even in a crowded air terminal. 

I’ve dabbled with guitars enough that I know which chords work together and how to transition from one key to another. My singing leaves a lot to be desired but then I sing for my own satisfaction. If I know the words and can shape chords to fit the melody, I can entertain myself for hours. If nothing else, I can retire from the real world and let that DJ in my mind do his thing. I’ve been into love songs lately, making a list of my favorites. The list is only five songs deep but that may be enough. Then I hear a great blues piece and can’t get it out of my head. In 2012, the Kennedy Center Awards honored, among others, Buddy Guy. On that stage, Jimmy Vaughn & Gary Clark Jr. performed together, “Things I Used To Do.” With YouTube available; no reason for anybody not to have seen this, several times. Then, if it’s not Marcia Ball or Kermit Ruffins, you never lose with Barbara Streisand or Neil Young. 

The road is winding down. Waiting at airline gates and double checking flight status are more the business than the places I didn’t get to see. I’m leaning more on my music and less on road maps. For all the great food I encounter, my universal pantry is stocked in my suit case, enough to get me home; apples and peanut butter. Don’t leave home without them. I’m listening to Don McLean in my head; maybe the best love sone ever: “And I love you so, people ask me how; how I’ve lived till now, I tell them I don’t know.”