Zach Sands

A couple of weeks ago, I stumbled upon a social media post where a local nonprofit organization that helps young families was looking for musicians to volunteer for an event. I responded, thinking it to be some kind of fundraiser.

I soon learned that the event was to be part of an ongoing summer program for kids. Cool, I thought. I can support that. This was pretty far removed from my experiences as a musician, but I agreed to participate, as it seems like a good organization that helps the local community, and I love to share my love for music. They also happen to be about four blocks from where I live. I am nothing if not a good sport.

As a general rule, if someone asks me to play music, unless I have some prior commitment, I will usually say yes. Granted, I may ask to be compensated accordingly and have reasonable time to prepare, but as my own representative in such matters, I determine stuff like that on a case-by-case basis. This was well within the realm of sure, why not?

Per the request of the event's organizer, I brought a binder full of singalong tunes with me, as well as a music stand to hold it. I also had some lecture notes in there, the idea being that this could also be an educational opportunity. I wasn't entirely sure what to expect.

Upon arriving and unloading my gear to the parking lot, I soon discovered that it was way too windy for any of that. The music stand kept falling over and the binder wouldn't stay open to any particular page for more than a few seconds. So I shifted to plan B, at least until the wind died down. It never did.

In retrospect, it's probably just as well. Even when my own kids were growing up in a house full of music, I didn't subject them to a lot of traditional children's songs. It's just not what I do. In the case of this event, I was willing to make an exception, but it seems that the fates and/or the weather had other ideas. I was fine with that.

Plan B entailed using a headset mic and trying to think of anything in my catalog of original music that sounds good on acoustic guitar, was more or less thematically appropriate for the audience, and doesn't contain any swear words. I also tried to incorporate as many teachable moments as I could under the circumstances.

I think I played thirteen or fourteen songs in total, including some pretty deep cuts. I may have messed up a lyric or two, but I can say with some certainty that I am the only one who noticed. Rank that among the joys of independent musicianship.

The good people who gathered there in the parking lot with me, amidst the evening sun and the relentless wind, all stuck around to the end. I think most of the parents and grandparents, etc. appreciated the rare opportunity to hear some live music. The kids seemed to dig it, too, unless high fives have lost their value altogether in this economy.

It was fun. I like to think that everybody got something out of it, even if it wasn't exactly what any of us may have expected. Funny how that works.

Music is meant to be shared. Sometimes my favorite places to do so are those in which a person might be surprised to hear it, like porches, parks, back yards, and parking lots.

Thanks to those who listen, and to all the other musicians out there who share the love.