Henry Van Dyke wrote, “These are the things I prize / And hold of dearest worth: / Light of the sapphire skies, / Peace of the silent hills, / Shelter of the forests, comfort of the grass, / Music of birds, murmur of little rills, / Shadows of clouds that swiftly pass, / And, after showers, / The smell of flowers / And of the good brown earth– / And best of all, along the way, friendship / And mirth.”
I used to play the drums in a fairly popular local rock band in the city I grew up in. Actually, I played in a few rock bands, but the core musicians stayed together. This was a very long time ago but it was a great experience. It helped shape who I am today. It also taught me a lot about friendship. I don’t see the people who made up the band on any regular basis but when we do get together it’s great to relive the memories. I mentioned that it shaped who I am today. If I hadn’t quit the band when I did I would never have pursued my other passion in life. My other love was radio. I had no illusions about where the band was headed. We might have had a future, but I got a sense that I would probably end up being a studio musician playing on other groups’ records. Radio was where I really wanted to be. I’m thankful today that I had the foresight to make the change. I’m also thankful for the friendships I made along the way. I still miss the drums, though. I don’t play them as much anymore, but my son does…
I really believe that some talents are passed down through the genes. My wife and I discovered early in his life that he had a sense of rhythm. He would pick up chopsticks and play the furniture. I made the leap and bought him a set of drums, and with little or no instruction he plays with a style all his own. I created my own style and have been content to sit back and watch what he does on the drums.
I must tell you that when my wife heard I was going to buy drums she was less than enthusiastic about the plan. I compromised and made sure they came with muffle heads. There wasn’t much I could do about the cymbals, but she enjoys hearing him play. This year, he made the jazz band at school. I can’t wait to see him play.
My daughter tried her hand at the guitar and keyboards. Every once in a while she will play one or the other, but music doesn’t seem to be as important to her right now. I know that could change over time. When I hear her play something she has come up with on her own, I often wonder about something as mysterious as talent and where it comes from.
This is an excerpt from the 1979 edition of the Friendship Book of Francis Gay, published by D. C. Thomson and Company. Gay writes, “The other night I saw once again a film made in 1930-the famous horror classic The Bride Of Frankenstein. Oddly enough, one of its most powerful scenes is one which stresses the importance of friendship… The unhappy monster created by Frankenstein arrives at an isolated cottage where a blind old man is playing his violin. Attracted by the sound of the music, he enters the cottage and the blind man welcomes him as a friend, gives him food and invites him to stay.
“He also teaches Frankenstein’s pathetic creature to speak a few elementary words. It may be a horror film but I shall never forget how movingly Boris Karloff portrays the gratitude of a lonely soul who has learnt to utter the simple phrases: “Food … good!’ And, best of all: ‘You … friend.’”
My son has played on quite a few hockey teams since he developed a passion for the sport. One of his coaches told me that no matter how far he goes, the most important thing he will have learned is the value of teamwork. He will also have developed lasting friendships. Like my infrequent reunions I’m sure he will meet up with some of the guys he’s played hockey with over the course of his lifetime. When they do, they, too, will reminisce about their playing days, and talk over old times.
I’ll leave you with one last thought. It’s from Families of The Heart condensed from “Families” by Jane Howardpublished in 1978 by Simon and Schuster. “A friend of the heart is one who perceives me as one of the better versions of myself. We make good music, this friend and I, and we make good silences, too.”
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Don Jackson
