Hallelujah

I rarely passed a busker on this trip to whom I did not contribute, from the guy with the piano in Dublin to the three piece band in Galway to the guitarist in Oslo.  But staying in Covent Garden in London emptied my pockets.

I admire the guts it takes to perform for the generally disinterested, and I figure anyone trying to earn some money from music is worthy of my small contribution, but in Covent Garden there were plenty of folks who had clearly spent years of classical training, and whatever their ultimate achievement, those years of lessons and recitals and practice time impress me.

When I was in New York a couple of years ago, I gave some cash to a guy in Stamford who told me some long story about losing his wallet.  I knew it was a scam, but, frankly, he entertained me.  It was a good story he told, with just the right amount of detail, not too much pathos.  My friend Debbie is still shaking her head at me, and this incident assured her I could not be left alone on the train or in the city.  But I was happy, I was seeing friends, and he made me smile.  Why not.  In the moment I had the thought "choose to be generous," so I opened my wallet.

There were musicians on this trip who genuinely delighted me, like the band in Galway.  There was one guy with a guitar who was pretty good in Covent Garden, mixing cover songs with original material.  For those of you following me on Facebook, it was he who was playing when I saw the little girls dancing.  I listened to him for a long time that day; his voice was okay, his guitar playing better than average, but there was such sweetness and a sincerity about him that I understood why the children wanted to dance around him.   One of my last evenings in London, I walked back through the plaza and he was there again, and through the sound of laughter around the knife throwing dude and the jugglers, I heard the strains of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" from the corner of the square by the Royal Opera.  It was my guy singing fully that powerful song, filled with the sorrow of it, but also with the joy of his voice going out into the night.

I thought of the candlelight concert in Iowa City when Laurie, Tess, and Barbara performed and invited me up on stage to sing "Passionate Kisses."  My home, my friends, my own little voice under the stars...and I thought of Tess singing "Geography," which has more or less been my theme song for this trip:

I left the heartland too old for the highway...

Unsure, uncertain but I don't regret it,

'Cause I've got my life in my hands.

Voices ringing out in the night.  Nothing better.