When I was 14, my closest friend Joyce and I decided we would learn how to play the guitar. I borrowed my cousin’s old Harmony guitar and we proceeded to teach ourselves. I spent hours learning chord positions and playing the church song- “The Spirit is a Moving” over and over and over again until my fingers were nearly bleeding. Changing from A to D to E - I was determined. I must say that that one decision to play the guitar- made on a whim, changed my life forever.

I started playing in the Saint Andrews folk group, at high school events and later college coffee houses and concerts. I believe the first song I wrote was about a duck and later I wrote songs to relieve teenage angst, mend my broken heart and celebrate life. Homemade songs became the acoustic journal of my life.

Self-taught, I went on to play the songs of the artists I loved-Joni Mitchell, Neil Young, Cat Stevens. I’ve never had the chops of say Bosco, or Klyph or Gene, or that young Josh lighting up the stage-but it never seemed to matter as long as I loved what I was doing. The guitar became my refuge, my companion, my identity. It was the place where I made friends and spent countless hours writing, practicing, and just having fun. I played with some of the finest musicians in our area and felt the joy of working in band.

I have been honored to play and sing at weddings, funerals, benefits, and birthday parties. I’ve wrote dozens and dozens of songs that will never make it out of my notebook-and never be heard by a living, breathing soul. There were times that I questioned what it was all about and whether or not my time might be better spent refinishing furniture or crocheting perhaps-but the guitar kept calling my name and became one of my best companions on this journey of life.

In Sag Harbor Elementary, as all of the children gathered each day to sing together for ‘Morning Program’ I was privileged to help lead the song for 25 years or more. This became one of the greatest blessings of my life- many of the kids carried these songs into adulthood, sang them through college, on the bus to ball games, during the times that they gathered and reminisced and many are now singing them to their own children.

Each student had their own favorite song- The Cat Came Back, The ABC Song, Alligator in the Elevator-my binder grew so heavy with songs that the music stand had a hard time holding it up. Fridays we would sing the school song and the entire school -kids, parents, teachers, staff-would all stand arm and arm and sing together. It was such a heartwarming time. Some songs were just plain fun and others were soulful-celebrating the beauty of life, the importance of being kind and reminding us to take good care of the earth. We learned sign language, shared poetry, celebrated birthdays, danced and grew to be a family.

I may never have experienced all of that joy if Joyce and I hadn’t picked up those guitars that one idle day. No one ever had to remind me to practice, I played because I loved it- and I hope I always will. In a song I wrote, ‘This Old Guitar,’ the first line is, “This old guitar has picked me up whenever I’ve been blue, and tells the stories of my heart, if I should play for you.” I have always enjoyed that idea-of the guitar picking me up rather than me picking up the guitar. Music is such a gift in our lives for musicians and music listeners alike. It may be the closet link we have to the voice of heaven.