Several years ago,while in the Catskills, I heard a strange sound .I was porch sitting, when I distinctly heard a turkey call .I had never seen turkeys in these mountains so I got up and went outside and there in the huge old maple was a mockingbird singing out his turkey song.Sounded just like a gobbler to me and I had to laugh out loud,so amazed was I.Later, a band of turkeys came by the porch and I knew they had been singing their song to the mockingbird while they were up in the woods.
I thought of this when I went to a concert at our church last week.The singer/songwriter is a man I have known since he toddled.When a young teen, I was his Sunday School teacher and he and my son ran cross country at Georgia Tech.When he graduated with that valued degree, he took a road not often taken.The artist's.
In his heart ,he had a fountain of music and stories to share.Thoreau would understand; he and his "different drummer".This courage is remarkable but there is so much more.In his pursuit ,he has kept his soul intact.His songs speak of his essence:nature,family,love.True
poles of his heart.
As singular as his achievements, what struck me was his graciousness; to his family, audience and the amateur musicians who came to join him for a few numbers.This is not an angry rocker who demands attention with his outlandishness.This is an artist with a heart full of stories.I was blessed to hear some of them.
The handsome young man sits and strums his guitar on a wooden porch.It is spring in Denver and the long winter has left him feeling dry and empty,lonely.He sits and as happened many times before,a mockingbird comes to a yew bush nearby.As it is with artists,his time with the mockingbird turns into gold.In a song he writes,the mockingbird becomes a kindred soul wanting to be heard.He is a companion who hears the artist beg:"sing me a song,make me want to sing,make me want to dance,make me feel love."Stirring words from this connection he has made.An artist's prayer.