Work

Work. That’s a word that means different things to different folks. I know I had jobs when I was a kid and would proudly announce, “I have to go to work” or some such variation. Saying that I had to work made me feel more like an adult, I guess. But whatever the reason, I enjoyed saying it.

As a young man in the U.S. Air Force I had a couple of different duties. The word was always “work” whenever we talked about it. Oh I had guard duty and KP duty when I was in training, but as soon as I got to my first permanent base the word immediately became “work”.

Like nearly every musician you’ll ever meet, I’ve had day jobs. A couple of times I thought that they would actually become careers but unforeseen circumstances intruded and I happily returned to music. The generic term I used for teaching, composing, writing, and performing was “work”.

Now I want to be clear. I’ve had “real” jobs. I’ve loaded/unloaded freight, installed and repaired HVAC systems, managed a big box store, and stuff like that. I truly know the difference between those activities and what I’ve spent the last forty years of my life doing. I sit on my duff and teach (mostly) willing students how to play music on a guitar. Not physically difficult and rarely mentally challenging. The hardest part is convincing my students that they are indeed smart enough. It’s really easy to get discouraged.

Many years ago I was getting ready to leave church when an elderly lady asked if I was staying for a special luncheon that was planned for that day. I simply said that I couldn’t because I had to work that afternoon. The following Sunday she grabbed me and said in an accusing tone, “Why didn’t you tell me you were giving a concert last week? I got home from church and began reading my Sunday paper and saw an announcement about it.”

“Well”, I explained, “the concert was over fifty miles from here and I honestly didn’t think anyone here would be interested in attending”. But I did remind her that I had told her that I had to work that afternoon. But I allowed that perhaps I could have been a bit more specific.

At one time I was teaching at a school of music and was adjunct instructor at two different colleges at the same time. They were all in different locations around the state. I was teaching 93 private lessons and 5 classes and driving about 700 miles every week. Okay….that felt like work. But that was the most and it only lasted a couple of years. 

I never really did many concerts/recitals but I played a lot of gigs. Weddings, cocktail and dinner music, etc. I was busier than I wanted to be and stopped in 2020 when the pandemic hit. It was the right time in my life.

Today I only teach a handful of students and it’s all online and don’t drive at all. I arrange and record music for my Patreon page, and do some video tutorials for my students as needed. I no longer perform. A little truth in advertising: some of my friends laugh and recall twice before when I “quit performing forever” only to change my mind a couple years later. (“Are you quitting forever again??”)

I don’t like admitting that I’m old and should be rocking in a chair instead of rocking out. In my mind I pretend I’m still a young guy until I get out of a chair and I hear sounds resembling the shaking of dice in a cup and unintended grunting sounds escaping my lips. But I’m still busy creating and producing and learning. And when I tell someone that I’m retired I feel a bit like a liar and feel the need to clarify things a bit. 

That word “work” still makes me feel like it did when I was a kid. Proud that I’m a productive member of society. Now if you’ll excuse me……I’ve got to get back to work.