"Music is the drip from the faucet that keeps the pipes from freezing..."

It's the little things. Friends gathering. The simple act of conversation. Preferably the kind where you have to talk over the music. Music is the salve. The whiskey on the toothache. It makes everything better. Without it, I wouldn't have most of my friends in the first place. Maybe you wouldn't have most of yours.

Music is the drip from the faucet that keeps the pipes from freezing.

The older we get, the more our circle of friends shrinks. But that circle also hardens. Once we start walking downhill towards the setting sun, sides have already drawn. It’s not that we don’t trust anybody new. It’s just that we’re wondering where they’ve been this whole time.

I don't get out much these days. Days are long and nights are cold and dark and the simple act of keeping the ship afloat can turn the couch into something way too inviting. So I'll lose myself in a Netflix binge, or more often, a book. A few years ago I tried a Kindle, and once the novelty wore off I put it in a kitchen drawer with all the charging cables that don't have anything to charge anymore. It felt wrong. A book is more than its words. It's the weight of itself. Its own musty smell. It’s the feeling of it in your bag. It’s the way you hold it and the way you choose to save your spot and the way the cheeseballs you were eating last week will forever be attached to the start of chapter 7. The best books force us all to make our own movies in our own heads as we go. I'm quite content to live most of my life in between these pages.

Which is my way of setting up the following……

I'm consumed by wanderlust but don’t really want to go anywhere. I've tried for years to make excuses but I've run out of them. I yam what I yam, as an old seadog used to say.

But the music is what does get me moving. Still. That and the folks who make it. Last night there was a room full of us.....everybody just sort of congregated to this one place at the same time. To see and listen to friends of all of us. It was the kind of thing that could never be planned. Too many variables. Too many schedules to coordinate. But the stars aligned and pretty soon it was like a roll call as guys walked in one at a time. An unexpected reunion is what it turned into. Lots of hugs and clinking glasses and guitar players letting their dinner get cold so they could jump up onstage and sing a few songs. In years past we used to do this sort of thing all the time. But then the pandemic rolled over the local music scene like a tsunami. Some of the places where we used to meet aren't even there anymore.

But these guys are the salt of the earth. All of 'em. Get stuck? Pick one of their names out of a hat and they'll come and dig you out. There's nothing forced in any room they are even in. Not a single bad vibe or rolled eye. And some sweet soul music.

Nobody takes anything for granted anymore. We've all lost friends and family these last 3 years. In some cases we could not even gather to mourn....the ultimate cruelty. We've learned to live with the uncertainty of just about everything. And we've learned to live without the sound of those clinking glasses. But for a few hours last night all was back to whatever it was we used to call normal. The deep freeze over Christmas was broken. It almost felt like spring. I might have heard birds singing. Or maybe that was inside my own head.

So yea, it's the little things. Like catching fireflies. Or walking into places where people know your name. Or watching A Charlie Brown Christmas. Another year is upon us. Time to do better. Do more of what you love and less of what you don't. Spend your time being lifted up. Either lead the singing, sing along, or look up the words on your phone for somebody who doesn’t already know them.

To anybody who has been reading this column over the last 2 years, I thank you. I'm gonna keep it going as long as I can. If you want to become one of my paid subscribers that would certainly get my new year off to a great start. Paid subscribers are what keeps this page going. If you’re already part of that crew, I cannot thank you enough. You’ve helped me get through some pretty tough times. And hopefully I’ve helped you get through some as well.

These columns are a labor of love to be sure, but they are labor. Hours and hours of it every week. I remind myself of this whenever I start to feel guilty asking for that $5 a month. Sometimes it makes me feel less guilty. Sometimes not. Imposter syndrome and all that, but I’ve been getting away with it so far….

Happy New Year everyone. May it be filled with music and the folks who make it. That’s my plan.

In a bit…

—tf