Ear Worm

Years ago, my dad and Uncle Sam ventured into the entrepreneurial world and together had a Cities Service gas station. I don't remember too much about it. It was very close to home and we could walk to it. About the same time, we had a portable record player. Hi-Fi, it was. It may have come as some promotion at the gas station. I can't really remember but that gas station and the record player share the same page in my memory book.

There were a few LP records, too. One was the Beavers, a knock off of Alvin and the Chipmunks, maybe. And a collection of Spanish tunes, one in particular that is forever in my brain. Even while writing this I can bring it back to life along with the mental video of my feeble attempts at traditional Spanish dance. Later, Beatles albums were added to my list of favorites.

In high school, the family graduated to a stereo although the kind encased in a cabinet like a piece of furniture. No genuine equalizer but there were speakers and we could adjust the treble and bass levels. Add some headphones and I could be at the concert, listening to Carole King and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young as I lay on the living room floor.

All of those records, together with a few years of piano lessons (enough to learn to read music) and the grade school chorus and church choir were the beginnings of my formal introduction to music and song that wasn't a jump rope ditty or childhood game.

More than eleven years ago, after the death of my husband Steve, I embarked on a different musical journey, taking up the Celtic or folk harp. Why the harp? A woman (she is now a very good friend) played her small harp at Sunday mass and it was beautiful and different.

What began as something to keep me busy, evolved into much more. I was very lucky to find a gifted teacher not too far from my house. A new world of workshops and traditional music introduced me to many wonderful musicians of all ages, ranging from enthusiastic students to accomplished performers. I hopped on a musical bus ride that just keeps on going.

I believe there is no question that certain talents are natural gifts that not everyone shares. I don't consider myself a natural musician. I am getting better at learning by ear but it does not come easily to me. My sister, on the other hand, has a much better ear than me. In my father's family, there was his brother, Uncle Harry, who was said to always have a guitar in his hands and Aunt Nancy's granddaughter, Kelley, is gifted with a beautiful singing voice. On my mother's side, no musicians that I know of although cousin Mike, in Colorado, does a mean karaoke. I myself, still like to sing, though not too well and like many, it is usually a private concert in my car.

Even though music doesn't come naturally to me, I do believe that I am musical. Anyone who has seen me dancing to the oldies with my sisters can see there is at least some innate rhythm, probably my primitive DNA drumming it's way to the surface. Musicality is something we all share in this universe. Many people may not have been gifted with a musical talent, but the fact that they are camping out in a line to buy concert tickets is proof to me that music speaks to them, that they enjoy the melody, the lyrics and the beat. They are indeed, musical.

So, I am enjoying my bus journey with the harp, happy to be a wee bit musical and to dance and sometimes even sing out loud, to the beat of the ear worm, that tune stuck in my head.