In my previous post,
Wasn’t Expecting That I shared the story of a small bird I shot and killed with my pellet gun when I was 12 years old.
“A little black bird that I killed, changed my life forever. It gave me an unexpected gift. As it silently died, something passed between us. I had stolen its voice. And so I sing for it now.”
I am singing a Jim Cuddy tune
called Pull Me Through which he wrote for his uncle and aunt but I feel like it could apply to the connection I made with the little black bird.
I want to thank @poeticsnake
for the lovely drawing she did for me. I asked her if she could help me convey my younger self consoling my older self. A moment suspended in time forever between what was and is. So many years have passed, and I am still mindful of the lessons learned.
I couldn’t say
how many hundreds or even thousands of hours I have spent with music as my constant companion. I played the dreaded recorder for a very short while, and switched immediately to the ukulele as soon as that program became available at my public school.
I don’t know how that program came about or who spearheaded it but I am forever grateful. At Brechin Public School, we gathered for our music class in a building that was separate and apart from the main school building so we could play and not disturb anyone, or be disturbed ourselves.
I have a feeling that the program was cutting edge for its time in 1976 and again, I can’t express how thankful I am for it. Because from the ukulele, I was able to shift easily to guitar which became my main instrument even though I play others. I received my first guitar for Christmas when I was 12 years old. I remember learning my first three chords that same day and playing a slow, halting version of Silent Night. I still love that Christmas song to this day.
It would be that very summer
that my life was changed by the little black bird. Somehow, a spirit of kindness was imparted to me by this tiny creature. I remember toeing the bird’s wing with my little shoe and somehow hoping it was a mistake. But it was not a mistake.
It died by my hand
and lay there so very still. I looked at it for what seemed like a long time, the sounds of summer buzzing and murmuring around me.
The silent sob in my chest,
and my instant remorse, was not enough to bring it back to life. I understood something on a spiritual level that I had never understood before. But there was something I did not know about the bird.
I did not know that its spirit now rested
on my shoulder like an angel assigned to me by God. At least that is what I suspect. I wonder, did the little black bird now look down at its own body from my shoulder? For reasons that I can not fully understand, I became a much kinder and gentler person from that day forward. I dedicated myself to music and spent endless hours learning songs off the radio.
I even won a Gong Show contest in high school some 4 years later singing Kenny Rogers’ The Gambler. Was I the only one who grew as the years flowed by? I had completely forgotten about the little black bird. I could not be sure.
Exactly 30 years later on June 1, 2010,
I began an email conversation with Scotty Hills. He is, in my opinion, one of the best blues singers in Canada. I’m pretty sure he was up for a Juno at some point with a band he used to be in.
Scotty ended up in charge of hiring the musicians for a venue at the Calgary Stampede for July of 2010, and he ultimately ended up hiring me for the week long marathon gig. I was playing outdoors at an excellent Italian Restaurant called Osteria de Medici. The owner’s kids actually talked me into singing a song in Italian for their parents on the last day I played. That was really something, singing in Italian in a full on cowboy getup lol.
I was playing every afternoon for a couple of hours for the entire week. On about day three into the week, Scotty walked up on the stage while I was doing my sound check. The venue hadn’t opened yet so we were more or less alone with just a few staff stocking beer coolers and such.
Scotty was looking particularly serious
and even a little stern. He’s a pretty tall guy at maybe six foot two (188cm) or better and I’m five foot ten (178cm). Looking down at me with his arms folded tightly across his chest, he began to speak. I honestly thought I might be getting fired.
Scotty is very passionate about music.
He refers to music as his ‘church,’ and he literally walked off the stage once when we were playing together at a gig and he didn’t like what I was doing on a djembe/bongo rig I was playing. He can be a little volatile like that when he’s so passionate. We took a little break, he calmed down, we talked about what he wanted and we went back on after a beer. You need a thick skin in the music business.
So, I thought, here it comes.
Arms folded, leaning a little forward Scotty began to speak. He started out by saying, ‘Michael, let me tell you a story.’
He told me about a time he was playing in a bar and a Native American man came up to him on his break and asked Scotty if he could sing one song. For whatever reason, Scotty said yes. There were a lot of chuckles as the man made his way to the stage and even a few laughs. But the man finally settled himself on the stage and looked out over the audience.
He raised his face as if to the sky and spread his arms wide and began to sing. The war chant that he delivered stunned the room into silence. Half raised beers lowered back to the table tops in deflated submission to his clear, crisp voice. There were no chuckles and there was no laughter when he slowly made his way back to where Scotty was sitting at the bar.
In stunned amazement, Scotty shook the man’s hand and thanked him for the gift. The man gripped Scotty’s hand and also said thank you. ‘For what?’ asked Scotty. For allowing me to share your stage tonight, for having faith, and for being a great musician yourself.
I’m sure Scotty was very moved by that, but he was truly moved when the man took an eagle feather on a leather string from his neck and held it out in both hands. He told Scotty that the eagle feather had been in his family for many years, and had been given to his father by his grandfather and then to him. He had no children of his own, and he wanted Scotty to have it.
Scotty tried to refuse it, saying it was too much, but the man insisted and placed it in Scotty’s hands. Scotty said the man patted him twice on the chest, turned and walked out of the bar. He never saw him again. One day I should ask Scotty if the man had ever been seen before or after in that bar because the whole experience just seemed so surreal.
The end of Scotty’s story brought me back
to the present. As I was trying to puzzle out Scotty’s meaning and intention with the story, he interrupted my thoughts. He said something to me I was not expecting.
He said, Michael, I hired a lot of musicians this week to play this venue. Honestly, my reputation is on the line with all the people I have hired. Of all the people I hired to play this week, you’ve been saving my ass with the owners. They love you, and we regret putting you in the afternoon warm up spot. I can’t change that and I can’t make that up to you.
Scotty reached around into his back pocket and took out the eagle feather on a leather string. And he held it out to me with both hands. He asked me to take it in my hands. My arms and hands kind of moved on their own. It’s rare I’ve been so surprised in my life. This is yours now Michael. He patted me twice on the chest, turned and walked off the stage.
If I had been paying attention, I may have realized that the little black bird on my shoulder had grown into an eagle.
That feather was tied to my cowboy hat for many years, on many stages and for thousands of songs. It now hangs around the neck of a 25 pound soapstone eagle carving that is also very special to me. I hope if we meet in the next life, you will see the eagle on my shoulder.
I've been sitting on this post for a few weeks now. I've never had the courage to put out a video of myself before. With my photography you will almost never see me come out from behind the camera. Conquering this fear has been one of the most monumental struggles of my entire life. I'm thankful for a small number of close friends who have supported me through this new transition. @globocop, your prayers were not in vain, @poeticsnake, your support has been invaluable. God bless you both. Thanks to @topkpop for being on call in case I needed to send up a video editing help flare!
Love,
Bug
I do play piano a little but I haven't touched one in about three years so the challenge was extra spicy for me this time around.
The song is myself singing and playing piano to Jim Cuddy's Pull Me Through