The Call >
"I really needed to make some sense of that odd tingling sensation"
Most befittingly, my journey of awakening began in a groggy, half-conscious state.
I had just dozed off on my sofa, looking forward to a quick recharge from a short power nap before working on some new song ideas, when I got the call.
I hadn’t even been back in my apartment five minutes, drained from leading my popular Saturday morning family friendly ‘Community Music Circle’ at the Delray Beach green market.
At these lively interactive musical experience, audience members, particularly young children, grab percussion instruments provided by group players and join in on the groove.
The catchy islandy jams — blending African, Arabic, Caribbean, and Latin rhythm patterns — and the humorous, interactive, singalong style in which familiar tunes and original songs are performed make this unique public event a fun and engaging experience for kids and adults alike. Don't Worry, Be Happy in a minor key over a calypso rhythm always proved to be a crowd favorite.
On this particular day, though, something very peculiar had happened.
It was a sinfully sensational clear and cool January morning — ‘deep winter’ in South Florida. A lovely young woman with an exquisite smile appeared suddenly out of the dense crowd of sun-soaked shoppers to join us right in the middle of a song. She was wrapped in a bright color-splashed sarong. Thick wavy black hair escaped from under a large weathered straw hat.
She sat on one of the extra canvas chairs directly across from me and confidently strummed along on the small light blue ukulele she had pulled out of a colorful canvas shopping bag bursting with teal and magenta swirls. The adorable little baby guitar prominently featured a dark brown sculpted wooden bridge in the shape of a short, pudgy smiling dolphin. Too cute.
She was obviously no novice player, perfectly blending in as we played a Latin jazz version of Big Yellow Taxi by Joni Mitchell. She was inspired enough to spontaneously harmonize with my vocals at one point. Looking right into my eyes, she sang, ‘Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.’
And then, just moments before the song ended, she subtly winked at me, graced the rest of the group with a wide, warm smile, and got up quietly to disappear back into the slowly moving mass of shoppers with their designer baby strollers and delightful canine companions on colorful rainbow leashes.
Who was she? A ‘snowbird’? A local?
I’m sure I had never seen her at the market before. And I really needed to make some sense of that odd tingling sensation I felt all over my body just moments before she appeared — I had never felt anything like that before. She would surely stop by again next Saturday, I convinced myself.
I cleared my mind and snapped back into the groove.
We wrapped up our jam around noon. After the usual post-performance banter with players, groupies, neophyte young drummers, and respite-grateful moms; I headed home to enjoy a quick power nap before preparing for the evening gig.
The Call >