I grew up in a house filled with music. Someone was always singing or playing the piano or violin. It was just part of who we all were. Well except my Dad who was absolutely tone deaf. It all sounded the same to him, but he had no objections to us making a musical racket all of the time.
My sister and I would sing while we did chores, harmonizing nice and tight. We sang in the car as my Dad crisscrossed the country a hundred or so times. We sang to ourselves as we played and wrote music. We sang in choirs, we sang along with musicals, we sang along with commercial jingles. We played duets with our Mother and with each other .We would play our records and our parents records on the stereo in the living room and then we would dance, sing and sometimes harmonize. I would "conduct' recorded symphonies, very seriously. When we lived far apart, I would tape the music I was writing and send it to my sister. Then she would listen to it and then call me so we could discuss it.
Even our pets had a musical leaning. We had a cat who would meow along as we sang, a dog who would howl along as we played violin and a bird who trilled and chirped and tweeted itself into a frenzy anytime music of any sort was happening in our house. I've even noticed that if the windows are open, the birds outside go crazy trying to accompany me when I play the piano. So my guess is that music is an elemental thing which is why it produces in us a deep down visceral response.
When my boys were babies I sang to them as they grew sleepy; soft lullabies of one sort or another. And when they were very small, I wrote a lot of music. They would play with their little matchbox cars under the piano while I worked out a piece which meant a lot of playing sections or entire songs repeatedly and sometimes singing the same phrase over and over. They would sing along with me, having subconsciously learned all the words. Because I was classically trained, most of my practice pieces were the written by the bigs. I have a passion for sonatas in particular so there would be these little boys, colouring in their colour books on a rainy day humming Hayden sonatas without even realizing it.
When there is music playing in the background, I find myself keeping time tapping my foot or my fingers without realizing that I'm doing it until someone points it out. And there is always a song going on in my head. At least one. Sometimes I hum along with it, sometimes I sing, sometimes I dance. It's just part of who I am.
Which is how Tim found me on the beach at sunset with almost nobody else around us, singing along with the song in my head and a bird nearby accompanying me. Kind of the doo-wop backup singer of the feathered kingdom.
I'm sure I'm not the only person in the world who sings as they bike or bake or does dishes or vacuums. I know I'm not the only person who sings in the car or in the shower. Isn't that part of the beauty of having a radio or CD player in the car? So you can sing along? And honestly, it does not matter if you can carry a tune or not. If it brings you joy, sing! Sing loud, sing long, sing with a smile upon your face.
So, if you should happen to witness me walking down the beach singing at the top of my voice, please don't just write me off as yet another whackadoo. It's music! And I just can't help myself.
Yup, this is me. Some people said, "Sam, you should write a Blog". "Well, there's a thought", I thought to myself. And so here it is.