One Of The Best Things

New life, life in any shape or form...life.

I am invited to play an annual event at a local road house.
The temperature is well over ninety seven Fahrenheit, but there are mist-ers and swamp coolers and a pool.

The first band is slated to go one at four pm. At four thirty pm the band leader is passing out business cards to everyone.
They go  on at five thirty pm.
(Faux pas one...go on when you are scheduled and if you can't, remove your gear so the next band gets on)

They are pretty good, new. There are rough edges to the standards but the original material is flowing. Some of it good. The theme is music, motorcycles and money.

The "sound guy" is also the keyboard player, you cannot hear his keyboards at all.

The bass player has a five string that he plays well. But midway through the first set he broke a string?
(Faux pas number umpteenth - restring before gigs, unless strings are new - bass strings? They'd have to be one or two years old at least to have broken)

Okay...as I said they are rough, but you can tell it is coming together. The drummer is a woman who kept a very good beat and could drive a truck if allowed to. Liked her a lot.

Then I remember the guitar player from George's in 2010 as the guy who got upset when he didn't get enough stage time and left in a huff.

At the start of their third set (?) George goes up to the mic and announces a few guest players; his way of getting people on and not waiting for the band.

He calls me, I respond...on with the show.

We play, it's fun and the beat picks up a notch, where people had been sitting before they were standing, clapping and almost dancing.

And then came the children.
There must have been twenty children in attendance. A whole area was cordoned off for them with a pool, and a huge area to ride - bikes, scooters, pedal cars - I had a fleeting thought of how cool this place is for the kids.

And then I noticed the kids were dancing. The two year old that kept falling down. The ten year old trying to makes the moves she's seen on the television. The raw joy and passion was so innocent and beautiful; I have a very primal reason I do what I do.

I am passing my passion to the children.
I get to share my heart with them and they reciprocate in an overwhelming wave.
I am helping to  bridge some gaps that exist between parents and their offspring.

This, more then anything else was heartfelt and true. It tugged at me. Like a kid at my side.

When it got dark and the fireworks began, the children filtered off, one by one.
I laid my guitar down and followed them.

I know where I belong.