Music in My Heart

My friend Josh has recently established a web presence. He’s in his first year out of college and has gone out west to Oregon, to hang with his dad and live a little. By all available evidence, he seems to be doing a bang up job of it. Of the Putney Crew, (of which my dad is an honorary member, there are four children. I dropped out of school, moved out west, joined the army and ended up in Egypt. Casey finished school, had a serious accident in the jungles of central America, and is now an organic farmer in the Happy Valley. Josh is currently in his adventurous stage, who knows where he’ll end up. Cali (Caledonia) will be leaving home soon, I think.

I may have gotten the furthest thus far, at least geographically, but I can’t help but feel a little wistful when I think of how I’m maybe not the one on the adventure anymore. I just finished watching Josh perform a closes his eyes when he gets to the good parts. I’ve sung in public only once. It was at my wedding and I sang “You’re my Home” by Billy Joel with Annie accompanying me on Guitar. Even though I had practiced a dozen times before the wedding, and they had all sounded very nice, I sang the entire song off key. Of course I knew I was off, as I was singing (even the trees were wincing) but there was nothing I could do about it but push through it.

Everyone said that it was still a super romantic thing to do. I mean, imagine humiliating yourself in front of 120 of your closest friends, is there any better way of expressing your love? My problem, though, is that there was something beautiful in my heart, which I needed to come out. I hear that song, and I get a feeling in my chest. It’s a tightness, a buzzing, a sense of rightness. When Josh sang his song, I had that feeling. His voice has just that James Taylor edge to it, sharp, pure, and sweet; the chords he plays just flow into each other, like a beautiful day.

I live on the most beautiful street in Cairo. The trees are Sycamore Figs; they form a canopy over the streets that the light tries to break through, but all we get is a bright green light, filling the street. When I step outside, a music like Josh’s voice fills my heart. When I come home at night, with the same canopy, but moonlight now, and I see huge fruit bats flitting around, I hear the muezzin calling the evening prayer and the thick sweet air is slightly stirred by the northeast wind, there is another song I feel in my heart, but the feeling is the same.

My mother-in-law, Terry, is an artist, she has an excellent eye for visually pleasing things. They came to visit us in Lebanon and I showed her the view from our balcony. It was an empty lot surrounded by dirty concrete buildings. Laundry fluttered from the balconies and there were several yellow construction machines; backhoes, bulldozers and the like. There were also a few scraggly trees and a small weedy garden. On the top of the neighboring building was a pigeon roost. In the corner was a shipping container which housed a neighborhood generator with a million wires leading to it. I used to sit out on my balcony, sipping ahwa, looking with contentment on my open lot. Feeling as though all were right with the world. I showed Terry my view and asked her from an artistic point of view if the scene had any merit. Without any hesitation, she said “no.”

One last thing: Jessica bought me a guitar last year. I tried learning some chords, but they all sound the same to me. A, C, D, E; repeating them in different patterns didn’t do me any good. After a few weeks of steady practice, my fingers hurt a lot, and I still couldn’t play a song I could recognize. So I gave up. I still take it out of the case now and again to pluck strings in random order, or make up chords that may or may not be harmonious. Mk and Kennedy are both fairly clear on the point that harmony is NOT the defining characteristic of my guitar playing. But occasionally I hit a sweet combination of notes, and I get that tightness in my chest. It makes the rest of the cacophony seem worthwhile, at least to me.

I’m not sure where I’m heading with all these images. I have a sense of loss though, of real sadness. There is music in my heart, beauty and harmony which I have never been able to express. It may be enough, sometimes, that I can feel it, but, today, singing in the shower is not enough.