For as long as I can remember I’ve made music. It started with clarinet in grammar school, piano in high school, guitar in college and somewhere along the line my voice became good enough to listen to. Other than clarinet I was self taught, and therefore my musical education was spotty in places but it still brought me joy and great pleasure.
On piano for years I played classical works by Beethoven, Bach and others. On guitar I started with classical guitar but soon was finger picking to folk music. I sang folk music for years.
A decade or so ago I joined our temple’s choir and sang tenor. We sang in English, Hebrew, Ladino and Yiddish. It was wonderful singing both accompanied and a cappella pieces.
Now sadly I find I have days that the piano is very hard to play. My hands are weak from Parkinson’s. Guitar is tough too, hitting even old familiar simple chords can be a challenge. Singing has good and bad days as well.
And so I am in mourning. This most central part of my soul is being torn from me and I seemingly have little I can do about it. Singing and music are direct expressions of my soul and I feel like they are being smothered with a wet blanket.
I will stubbornly plod on, singing as I can, expressing my soul as I can. Perhaps no longer a performer I will still let my soul out.
My Gifted Life 