October 6: He’s the kind of guy that you encounter on the TTC and hope that he will not be interested in having a conversation. You know the type: he seems slightly sweaty and his clothes are all a bit outdated and a size too large; his hair is too long and obviously hasn’t been washed in a while; he moves like a man who has been mainlining caffeine for days and his eyes dart around the bus like an animal looking for a quick exit.
He sat opposite me on the Davisville bus last week as I returned home from the second week of practice with the New Horizon Band. Frequent reader(s) may recall that I played with them 2 years ago and, although I enjoyed making music, I put my electric bass aside in favour of other things. During the Summer, I decided that the band deserved another chance with more commitment to practicing and learning on my part. So it was with some quiet happiness that I sat on the bus with my bass in it’s gig bag, standing on the floor in front of me. I will admit that I had positioned it to partly block my view to Mr. Java Brain, who was now sitting directly opposite. Didn’t work.
“So you play bass” he says, loud enough for the folks in the back of the bus to hear. “I do” says I, “but it’s just my second week”. I hoped that my lack of experience would put him off some how. “So do I” he says, and then proceeds with a monologue outlining the type of bass he plays, the strings he uses and the way he can figure out tunes by playing a recording from YouTube through a tuning machine. “Of course, I have to have it restrung backwards because of my fingers.”
Only then do I notice that he is missing all four fingers on his right hand, along with the top joint of his thumb. His left wrist, obviously smashed at some point, is frozen straight out and can’t be bent into a position that would allow easier access to the frets.
At that I moment I was shocked and a bit ashamed. I had been so quick to judge this guy on the basis of his appearance and behaviour, that I had nearly missed the opportunity to connect with someone who was truly passionate about making music. When I saw past the appearances, I came face-to-face with a man who had figured out how to overcome the obstacles in his life and was trying to express himself in a creative way through music. He was, in fact, just like me.
This little vignette replays in my mind from time to time. It is a not-so-gentle reminder to not be so quick to judge others. It also reminds me that I live a relatively privileged life, with many comforts and opportunities that are not available to everyone. It also shows me that passion and commitment can take you places many would think to be unachievable. Musicians come in all shapes and sizes, and perhaps with enough commitment and practice, some day I will play as well as this strange man on the bus.
http://newhorizonsbandtoronto.ca/index.html