F.O.U.N.D
“Pushing the door open, I stepped up and shook Joe’s hand, his grip was firm and his eyes assured, he knew, that I had too had been found.”
The scrap of paper pinned on the wall advert read:
“Ready to take your music to the next level?
Beginner & Intermediate players welcome.
Joe Frank can get your guitar skills up to par,
so you can achieve your goals.
Don’t wait, call now ”
My stomach curled in a knot and I felt my hands get hot for a moment, but my choice had already been made.
I drew in a breath and decisively tore off the slip— years worth of searching had all been working to take this one step, to make this decisive act possible.
Fourth of July, 2015
It’s six o’clock a.m. and I can hear the distant sound of the glacier fed river outside. Through my cabin window I can see that the sky is a misty blanket & the sun a cool pale yellow. For a moment I forget where I am, as it is far from the place I call home.
I’m about 600 miles away from the comforts of modern society & most of civilization, nested in the heart of Lake Creek Alaska. I’m at Riversong Lodge, a small fishing lodge that sits on five acres of land and is completely surrounded by river water; an island essentially. I’ve been working as a gardener here for the past month. It’s a slice of paradise with a population of about 40 people year round; and my particular island Lodge is home to just 14.
Slipping on a gray wool sweater, I mentally prepare myself for the day’s work. Water the forget-me-nots first, the irises second, & don’t overwater the petunias cause they’re growing like wildflowers. Pushing the door open and embracing the brisk morning air I smile. Today is a special day, it’s a holiday and the Lodge employees get to eat and drink with the guests.
6:30pm comes quickly enough and I pull the woolen sweater off and put on a causal t-shirt and black slacks. The island’s a buzz with a rumor that a famous musician is amongst us this holiday, he’s vacationing with his wife and his three buddies from Highschool: all somehow serendipitously named Steve.
The night progresses & I manage myself into his bonfire circle. It’s an older crowd, there’s a light air of cigarette smoke wafting about, & famous Steve strumming beautifully on the strings of the Lodge guitar. I’m talking up one of the other Steves, when famous Steve’s wife begins to engage me in conversation.
She seems to have taken a liking to me, I smile and converse with her lightly but my heart is hoping for any window to jam out with her rockstar husband. We exchange a few more words, then out of the corner of my eye I see famous Steve stop his playing for a moment, and he butts in on the conversation.
He smiles warmly and compliments how well I’ve maintained the lodge’s flowers and proceeds to ask me more about myself. I mention a few obvious things, college grad on a summer adventure, then without much transition I begin to talk about music.
“Do you know any covers from the late 70s or 80s?” he asks.
“Only about a hundred” I respond.
Quicker than I can barely believe Steve starts strumming a pretty familiar Black Leopard song and I join in singing the lyrics. The music is flowing between the two of us and everything is right as it should be. After we’d performed a few more covers together, he hands me the guitar and urges me to play an original, if I have any.
I am nervous, as I know my guitar playing abilities were slightly above abysmal, & I had only recently completed writing the music and lyrics of my first original song. Despite my fear of humiliation, I oblige.
I grip the guitar, somewhat awkwardly, my hands strumming clumsily on the strings and begin to sing out the chorus and verses:
I wanna start over, I wanna start again.
This life’s too complicated, I got too much regret.
So do you wanna start over with me?
After I strummed the last chord I glance up at the circle of faces, surprised to see them all listening attentively in silence. The Steves beam at me and famous Steve looks over to me, his eyes for the first time quite serious.
You work on your music a lot don’t you?
Yea, since I was 16 I’ve been very interested.
He made a sound of amusement, then added thoughtfully “We make choices in our life, & when you’re doing something & pursuing it so naturally on such a regular basis, it’s worth becoming more conscientious about it, & setting some goals for yourself”
I listened quietly and nodded in concurrence.
For the first time since I’d stumbled upon the joy that is the process of creating music, my heart sat still and I felt the weight of the responsibility that comes with devoting yourself to the things you love.
His response managed to resurface a cohort of voices; ghosts from my past that had delivered the same message, my friends, relatives & acquaintances seemed to join with him in a choir of support.
When you find something you love, whether you realize it or not, a process begins in which a symbiotic relationship is created between you and your love, & try as you may,& go where you will (either on desert island, a city, or hometown) just as you found the thing you love, the thing you love will eventually find you too.
Standing outside of the Joe Frank’s guitar instruction room, I knew that I was exactly where I needed to be, when I needed to be there.
Pushing the door open, I stepped up and shook Joe’s hand, his grip was firm and his eyes assured, he knew, that I had too had been found.