Wednesday, August 17, 2016

The Jam

"I teach English," she explains throwing her hair over a shoulder and taking her glasses off to emphasize what she's saying, "but I'm really a singer/song writer."

Having already performed a couple of her originals, no one cares she teaches English.

What's that got to do with anything?

Looking around the room, everyone here does something else we don't care about either.

There's a politician, a cleaner of Beach Vacation rentals, a psychotherapist, a Hospice Nurse, an electrician, a guy who used to drop bombs from planes and ... a few who provide no clue whatsoever they do anything else.

It doesn't matter.

On Tuesday nights at Doc's Bar "Monty Parks Tuesday Night Acoustic Jam" occurs, which almost sounds like "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" ... but it's not.

At the Jam, for an hour or so anyway, everyone becomes who they truly are ... musicians ... singers ... songwriters ... lead guitarists ... conga players ... blues harps ... beautiful souls.

Making it magical is the Jam is "a little like religion and a lot like sex" (to steal a line from another singer/songwriter).

We are a faithful lot who attend the Jam and we notice if someone's gone too long having grown to genuinely care about the permanent fixtures, seasonal members and occasional visitors.

That's the religion part.

The sex part is we really get each other off at the Jam ... encouraging and pushing each other to be that musician and singer/songwriter they really are but buried under the other things they do.

Some nights it's just orgasmic.

Thomas sings "Blue Lights" leaving the room hushed ... Chip tells tourists to get the "fu#k out the way" and we explode in laughter ... Lona brings happiness to the saddest of songs ... Cousin Itt sings about us drawing us together even closer ... Monty sings about his dog and eyes grow moist.

Slo' Bass shoots rhythmic jokes slapping a steady beat in a crazy dance with Conga Dave and the precisionist.

It gets pretty hot in the back room at Doc's.

In the Bar they drink and watch "Wheel of Fortune," shoot Bumper Pool or work on getting laid pretending be someone else.

But in the Back Room, during the Jam, there's a weekly gathering of people being who God created them to be, which is not necessarily who we are.

And it happens with the sweetest encouragement and support.

Nobody cares if you screw up because, we've screwed up trying to become who we really are, and we're gonna do this together.

Sometimes, not all the time, the sounds are so incredibly holy coming out of the back room that the Bar grows as quiet as a Church on Monday morning.

That’s what happens when you finally get to become who you really are anyway and stop pretending you’re someone else.

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