never too late

My friend Caroline started a local storytelling event this past October. To say, I’m proud and thrilled about this endeavor is the understatement of the year. She hosted her third one in March and when she needed more sharers, I reluctantly offered to tell a story.

First, you need to know a little bit about Caroline. She’s magic. She’s also a massage therapist, artist, writer, mom to her adorable 5-year-old daughter, her angel daughter Ava who she lost during pregnancy, and wife to hubby, Jason. She’s a kind and wonderful bad ass warrior woman and there’s much more to her story and so much to love about her.

She was diagnosed with glioblastoma 4 years ago and what she has done in this time, is nothing short of amazing. She’s become a spokesperson both for issues facing cancer patients and their families as well as for Planned Parenthood and the necessity and legality of medical abortion. It’s hard to summarize this incredible woman and what she means to me and to those who love her.

The storytelling event that she has created is a perfect example of what she’s capable of. She hosts the event at an awesome bar in Seminole Heights called the Corner Club. The atmosphere is both supportive and lively. It’s uplifting, everyone is friendly, and I leave feeling like I just made 20 new best friends. There is food and drink, maybe tears and plenty of laughter as we sit underneath the oak trees and twinkly white lights.

I was nervous and wished I could tell a story without looking down at what I had written but I’m not that confident. Yet. I do feel like it’s addictive and am dreaming of how to do it better next time. Below is a version of what I shared:

I walked down the stairs on my birthday last year and on my kitchen table was an amp and a bass guitar. I told my husband I wanted to learn how to play bass and he very kindly obliged. You see I love music and while I’m musically inclined, I’ve never been able to play an instrument well. Or at all. I’ve taken piano and guitar lessons. As well as voice lessons. I’ve been known to play flipped over garbage cans and bongos when the mood strikes and my sweet husband has always entertained these whims. Once, he purchased a digeridoo while we were driving cross country. While one of us drove, the other sat in the passenger seat trying to make it sound like something other than gas. He's also given me tablas and has listened to me play the triangle and maracas at random establishments and friend’s backyard parties. He’s a good sport that Joshy.

I told myself I was going to take bass lessons for a year. I’d take it nice and slow and who cares, I’m almost 50! It doesn’t matter if I sound good or look like a fool while doing it, I’m playing for fun! No one is paying any attention to what I’m doing anyway! I’m learning something new.  Neuroplasticity!

Well, I’ve failed miserably.

When my teacher would come over to teach me, I found myself grabbing my conga (thanks to sister, Kerry for this one which I’ve had since college) or my djembe or a tambourine – I also have a great collection of classroom instruments like shakers - and asking him if we could sing instead.

At first, we’d reserve this fun part for the end of my lesson like it was a reward for trying so hard to learn how to stretch my fingers and play a bass line. (Memory in perimenopause is an elusive thing). But soon I said, f*ck it, who am I kidding?  I want to sing! Joni Mitchell, Traci Chapman, Fleetwood Mac, Tom Petty, Jack Johnson. The Indigo Girls!

We even had a one-day chorus in my family room where I strongly encouraged aka begged people to join me. (There will be more, if you’re in Tampa, join us. Please. I’ll be your best friend). We even sang together at a nursing home singing such hits like Take Me Out to the Ballgame and Home on The Range.

My 4th grade chorus teacher, Mrs. Walker would be proud as would my dad who always encouraged me to get over my self-consciousness and sing for Pete’s sake. So maybe I haven’t failed miserably after all.

Backtrack to the time when Caroline and I took a walk on the beach. It was one of those unusual and spontaneous days where time flows differently and we got to enjoy a beer with our fish tacos at lunch. She told me about getting to see Joni Mitchell in concert at the Gorge.

I love Joni too!

So, in honor of our sweet Caroline and in the spirit of stepping out of our comfort zones and doing what scares the heck out of us as well as doing what brings us joy regardless of whether we’re good at it or not…here’s a little Joni Mitchell ditty called Twisted. (And then I sang Twisted and everyone snapped their fingers making me feel like I was a real live jazz singer in a club - a dream my mom and I both shared).  

Thank you, Caroline for the opportunity and the INCREDIBLE community you are building through storytelling!

See you all on Thursday, May 28th at 7pm at the Corner Club in Seminole Heights. Come listen or share a story! It’s free! And so much fun! Do something different, expand your horizons!

Follow @tampabaystorytelling on Instagram

Also to hear Caroline tell her story, please check out her heartfelt conversation called Life Before Death on my friend Rebecca’s podcast All the Grief which can be found on apple or spotify. @allthegriefpod on Instagram.