These Bluegrass Journals...

by Joshua Heston

This road less traveled, often not a cliché but rather a lifetime of choices — oft difficult paths to tread. Questions of following the heart no matter the cost.

It is the culmination of long hours on the road, of afternoon pickin’ parties, of winter pies and summer tomatoes. It’s the flashbulbs of national conventions and the near-empty halls of a so-totally-not-sold-out show.

It’s a hard life, this bluegrass life. But it’s a good one ’cause it’s true. We did not choose this path for security, affluency, or fame.

We chose this road for there’s something in the music, the lyrics, the resonation deep within saying, I am true. I am honest. Now and forever. Because I am human and this is my song...

Finding Your Nitch*

by Cindy Clark

It was about three years ago, right now, when I was reaching a mid-life crisis of sorts. I had decided I didn't have any dreams left and I didn't even have a decent hobby... except for drinking coffee (which is an admirable addiction but not a good hobby). 

It was about two months later I first lifted the upright bass off its side and strummed the G, D, A, E... in that order. My husband had found the bass on sale and bought it at Christmas, hoping one of our kids would find an interest in playing. I had not even taken a second look at it. I couldn't read music and I had no interest in playing the bass.

Most of you know the story of how I came to be a “bass player,“ but for those of you who don’t, here is the Reader’s Digest version:

My dear friend Gayle Roberts sent me an email about a youth band contest held every year in Branson, Missouri’s Silver Dollar City where “the past comes alive!”

Gayle liked my boys’ music playing and thought they would be good competitors in the contest.

We Googled about it — which is what the world does now for information — and I contacted Mr. Callaway, the head of entertainment at SDC. I sent him a YouTube video of my boys. He called me to say that they were good but that we were auditioning for a band contest and the two boys alone didn’t qualify as a band. He said, “If you can get a band together, then they would qualify.” I told the boys. We brainstormed a bit about possibilities. It was then that I picked up that bass....strummed those first notes and mused, “Hey! Do you think that I could play the bass for you if we entered that contest?”

I credit my son Jed with my most motivational piece of encouragement...

He looked at me, rolled his big brown eyes and said, ”Oh, come on mom!” It wasn’t the kind of ”come on mom” that meant, “OH, please try!” It was the kind that meant, “You couldn't possibly do that!”

For me, that was a challenge, a dare — fuel to a fire I didn't even know was smoldering in my heart. I asked him to show me which strings made what notes. He did. Then he played a song in the key of D which meant that I could play the whole song on the bass without ever fretting on the fingerboard. Having a decent ear for music, I was able to hear the changes and accomplish them quickly.

The rest is history.

Two months later, my boys — along with two other kids and me — played four songs in a two-day contest. In a competition where 14 other bands from around the country competed, we placed third. 

Thus was the end of my mid-life crisis and the beginning of not just a hobby, but  a passion that had been deep inside of me for years — one that I didn’t even know I owned.

I started playing music and singing with my kids. It has been hard, maddening, and wonderful, all at the same time. I love, love, love it.   But, please don't become bored yet... because that is only the backdrop for this note.

Get a cup of coffee and please finish reading at some point because what I want to communicate is deeper and better than just how I came to play bass....

I want to communicate how I’ve found the best part — the “creamy middle” if you will. I want to communicate what I love the most about coming to this place in my life. As usual, I am finding when I have a revelation it’s only the tip of the iceberg.

Usually, the revelation grows and the more I discover, the sweeter it becomes.

God works with me that way — probably all of us — if we just stop and think about it.   Yesterday, the boys played at the Arkansas Bluegrass Association Jamboree at a senior citizen’s center in Benton, Arkansas. There might have been 50 people there in all — an attendance that was down approximately 75 percent from past jamborees according to the host of the party, Mr. Tipton.

A charming older gentleman, Mr. Tipton seemed very disappointed at the low attendance. He all but apologized for the low numbers, but said, “We’ll have a good time anyway.”

I looked around the room. It was a typical bluegrass crowd for Arkansas. I may have been one of the youngest people in the room — at age 47. Older bluegrass audiences are not the most animated but they are certainly the most loyal and I believe they enjoy their music more than any other fan of any other brand of music!

They are the kind of audience that sometimes looks bored but when you finish, they smile big and clap loud!

I love, love, love bluegrass fans! They are the best! We took the stage and opened with an instrumental. Then Jed sang the next one.

I watched the crowd as we played (I like making eye contact with people when we play). I like watching their faces when one of my boys does his magic with fancy runs and impressive licks.

But most of all, I like singing to the audience. When it’s my turn to sing, I try to sing straight to them...individually. I don’t sing songs I don't like... and usually, I like a song not only because of the melody, but because the words mean something to me.

I like seeing someone and realizing what I'm singing to them means something to them too.

I like that moment when our eyes meet and I discern an emotion has been tapped...an “aaha” moment has been shared by us. We both like this and maybe for some of the same reasons.  I like feeling that a human-to-human connection has been made. 

Don't you love it when someone says something to you or tells you about an experience and you not only understand what they are saying, you know you’ve felt what they felt?

Pardon the dramatics here but it is somewhat of a religious experience for me. I love connecting with people. That’s what Jesus did too. He understood them and connected with them. I like it when I am understood and when I understand someone else. It, to me, is a basic element of love. To connect and feel something together.

I’m trying to think of a word for it...but the only one that keeps coming to my  mind is good.

It is good. 

I sang a song about Jesus:

He is more than any friend could ever be / He more than meets the need / He is more...

I looked into a lady’s eyes as I sang. She smiled at me with her eyes when I sang. She believed what I sang, just like I did.

It was good.

Perhaps the best part of the whole experience yesterday was meeting the people after the show. I love the nice compliments that everyone lavishes on my boys and me.

Vanity. I still have plenty of that.

However, it wasn’t that part that was the best.

It was meeting people who told me their names and shared their lives a little bit. I met a precious lady named Iwana. She told me she was 80 years old and she lost her husband of 57 years in July. She and I talked about losing people who are precious and she shared how she was getting through it with the help of her sons and friends.

We talked a long time and I was genuinely encouraged by her.  I met other people who talked about things that were familiar to me — common experiences not because we were so alike but because we had grown up similarly, but generations apart.

When we left, I felt good... real good.

We all won. They enjoyed us and I enjoyed them. What a deal! When God gives you some  special gift (whether it is an experience, an opportunity  or a tangible thing), thank Him for it and live out of it as much as you possibly can. If it reaches a point where that gift seems like it wasn’t as good as you first thought, thank Him for it.

He is going to teach you something by it. But, if that gift was a dream — a passion you had deep inside — and you realize that, don’t let go of that passion!

Keep the passion and ask God to show you how to best use that passion His gift stirred inside you.

Playing music with the kids and singing with them? It was a gift but that gift created a passion in me for something bigger than just playing music and singing songs. It filled a desire in me that was there when I became a nurse... long, long ago.

The passion to connect with people. To see joy in them and to share suffering with them.  There have been  times when it seemed too hard too keep living that passion. Living it was not “good for us” and not the best. But for some reason, I don’t seem to be able to let go of that passion. I've tried and somehow hearts get turned and bad times fade and we seem to somehow play music again.

It’s not always fun. Sometimes it just seems like hard work. But there are those days — days like yesterday when it seems almost my calling.

I love people. I love singing (especially with my kids). And I love connecting.  

So, to my husband who bought the bass on a whim: Thank you, honey.

To my friend Gayle, who without even knowing she was part of a wonderful gift coming from God to me: Thank you, dear friend.

To those of you (and you know who you all are) who have listened to me bellyache about every little aspect of this whole big ride: Thank you friends.

To those of you who made it to this point in my ramblings, Thanks for reading! I hope it connected with you somehow.

And most of all, Thank you Lord Jesus...for new mercies every day...and for giving me the gift of getting to connect with people...and for giving us all passions.

It's all good.

December 5, 2010

March 1, 2015