thelastasthmatic

the rain on my window makes me wish for a roof made of tin. i dont know, something from a childhood memory of my grandparents house: a white house with a green tin roof, rocking chairs beneath the veranda, an old coal burning stove warming a cool spring evening. ever so often ill hear a train in the distance. i close my eyes and im back in Coalfield.

bacardi is keeping me warm tonight. ive neglected all my domestic duties to hold on to this feeling. its not quite comfort, not quite peace. my mind is already at work tomorrow night on the dark side of the moon; my heart is lost in music, drifting in something akin to love.

after destroying my legs at the gym, i spent the afternoon at my parents house scanning pictures for my sisters upcoming 40th pseudo-surprise party. i didnt intend on spending 3 hours pouring over photo albums with my mom, but found myself in no hurry to leave once the task had begun. i saw the evolution a cute baby to a pretty girl to a highly successful and beautiful woman. my sister is truly my inspiration (a tale for another day), and each image i saw reiterated that. i did find several pictures of me that i was not expecting.

especially the ones with carol.

the pictures were from my time with the nashville pipes and drums- my first involvement with a bagpipe band. there were a few pictures of a parade, and some from the grandfather mountain highland games. carol was in almost all of them. she was my first teacher/mentor in the scottish drumming world. she was an amazing drummer, a bit egotistical, and a very political player in the world of scottish music in the southeast. i am not a good political player. we had a falling out after almost three years of playing together. it was not professional. it was not pleasant.

i took a year off before i started playing with the tennessee scotts pipe band (lovatt-cameron at the time, also know known as the other pipe band here in nashville). lots of bad blood between the two bands seemed to add to the alienation and resentment i felt for carol. our bands would inevitably be staged next to each other at the games, often marching side by side in the massed bands, and we would never speak.

one day, however, carol approached me after a competition at the stone mountain highland games in georgia. i played bass drum that afternoon, and the band had won our competition. i was walking alone around the vendor tents when she stepped out of the crowd. good job on the bass drum today, john. you guys sounded great, she said. i could only look at her and say, thanks. she gave me a bit of a smile and a curt nod and disappeared into the crowd.

that was the last time i ever saw carol.

it was almost a year later i found that health problems had taken her life. i didnt know how to feel. this ex-marine had introduced me to a different face of one of my first loves. she had driven me to be a better player. she had also hurt and disappointed me, and left me with no explanation as to why. i saw her face in the pictures tonight, and i smelled the rubber practice pads, tasted the sweat from countless marches and parades, heard the staccato flurry of the snares, and felt sore muscles in my whole body swell to the immense pride i felt standing in the ranks at some of the largest scottish gatherings in this corner of the country.

i suppose it was appropriate i found those pictures this afternoon. appropriate i saw carol while revisiting my sisters life with my mom. i guess you could say i spent time with three of the most important women in my life...




the rain sounds like applause behind a closed curtain
after a show well played
we raise a glass to those who stood before us
and to those who couldnt stay

i thought of my time in the spotlight
the ones who watched me there
i raise a drink for them tonight
and the ones that couldnt bear
to watch me

shine